


honey, don't feed it (it will come back)

by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Adam Towers is a snotty little rich boy, Adam is a bossy little bitch, Choking, Crossdressing, D/s themes, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Fingering, Fucking, Hannibal Extended Universe, Lingerie, M/M, Nigel is just a fucking disaster, Nigel is still Nigel but he's trying moderately harder not to be a dick, Oral, PTSD mentions (past), Poor Life Choices, Rimming, TW: Violence, alcohol use, an awful lot of smut, attempted murder mentions (past), basically this is a rom com movie with hard edges and porn, crime mentions, crossovers, cw: guns, cw: violence, light BDSM themes, madancy?, nigel/adam - Freeform, one night stand into dating, sugar daddy Nigel, tw: guns, unapologetic retconning, vague retcons of character death, very gay, very smutty, we got it in there, you fucking name it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils
Summary: Adam Towers is drifting through a life of lethargy, held back by past trauma and his own shortcomings and frustrated with the results. He hooks up with the enigmatic, gorgeous Nigel at a London party and it sparks a terrible hunger in both of them for something more- something real. Can either of them let go of their self-destructive behaviours long enough to find it?This is a complete work that will post in six parts over the next few days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is from Hozier's 'It Will Come Back', a song that so accurately describes these two that we're not sure it wasn't written with them in mind. It started as rarepair porn and rapidly got away from us, turning into 45k of ubiquitous porn and a sparing smattering of plot. We've really enjoyed fleshing these guys out and hope you like them, too!

The rooftop is beautifully decorated and furnished with enough booze to sufficiently lubricate the entirety of London, but Adam finds himself unenthused by the noise. He stands against the edge of the cement roof, peering over the lip, champagne flute clasped to his chest. Terrace parties are all the rage right now, but he’s always curious about what’s going on below, or behind, any given event. He can’t help it.

Unfortunately, past a certain point, nothing is going on anywhere except horizontally. Sometimes that's entertainment enough, but lately it has been less distracting. He adjusts his scarf fretfully. It’s bloody cold up here; anyone with half a brain would have booked a getaway to Ibiza by now or the same amount it cost to throw this fucking farce. He fancies somewhere a little less filthy, personally.

He turns, elbows propped on the ledge as he watches a girl stumble past, smeared with glitter and cackling. Someone less filthy too, he thinks. Or at least less wasted. His eyes trail from face to face with a half-hearted interest. God, it’s just all so boring. Why is he here again?

"Somewhat tedious, isn't it?" a voice says from beside him.

Adam glances over his shoulder. Speaking of filthy...well, that’s probably not the right word, but it’s what pops to mind. Cigarette filter pinched between his teeth, the stranger gives him a wry smile. Part of Adam is still trying to place his accent, but his - well, everything else is very distracting.

"Most things involving alcohol and people are," he agrees archly, "but add a rooftop to the mix, and you've got a potential anecdote."

“Any contenders so far?”

"So far only me, actually, and it's not from an excess of fun."

“That’s a real fucking shame,” the man says, expelling a stream of smoke.

"It certainly is." Adam's smile is wry. “Adam Towers,” he adds smoothly, holding out a lazy hand, “professional tedious party attendee.”

"Nigel Lupei," the stranger replies, "professional disperser of tedium." He takes his hand, shaking it gently. Adam feels callouses, and knows the gentleness is at least mostly a lie. Unfortunately, he finds lies extremely exciting.

"Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it," he says conspiratorially.

Nigel takes a moment to inspect him thoroughly. “I don’t think you can afford me.”

Adam laughs, faintly offended. "I think you'd be surprised, but go on, I could do with a laugh."

Nigel takes another slow drag on his cigarette. His inspection this time is less thorough but more thoughtful. Adam raises his eyebrows, tapping his foot. “It depends which services you’re interested in, darling,” Nigel says. “Some are free.”

"Which ones are those?" Adam smiles.

"Casual conversation? A refill on your drink?” Nigel smiles like a shark. When he turns Adam can see the snaking line of a tattoo lining his jugular vein.

"Sounds like I can afford you, Nigel."

“At least for now.” Nigel raises a hand. A waiter with a tray simply materializes in front of him, and Adam is reluctantly impressed. He’s pretty drunk already, probably doesn’t need another one, but he’s never been good at self-restraint.

"The rest of your services must be satisfactory, too," he observes, tilting his chin in thanks as he takes the glass.

“Evidently.” Nigel alternates drink with cigarette with a practiced gesture. He's not half fucking bad, in a chiselled, vaguely threatening sort of way. Adam watches him from beneath his hair. He’s probably not being extremely subtle. He’s also not sure he cares.

Nigel breaks the silence. "What do you do, Adam Towers?"

“Do,” Adam muses, like he’s trying to place the concept. Nigel raises his eyebrows. “My last girlfriend called me a ‘tatty gossipmonger,’” he replies finally. “It has quite the ring to it, doesn’t it? But honestly, Nigel, it’s no fun at all to eavesdrop at these things and not pass it on.”

"A tatty gossipmonger." he repeats it carefully. "So, you're a nosy little prick, huh? You must have made quite an impression on her."

Adam takes a sip of champagne. “I always do.”

"I can see that."

Adam can’t see much. Nigel seems to have a default expression of vague annoyance. "What about you?" He holds a hand out for his cigarette, smiling when he hands it over with a little curl of his lip. "What do you 'do'?"

Nigel smirks. “You can’t tell?”

"Antique dealing?" Adam grins.

“You better fucking believe it.”

"You look the type."

“Don’t I?” Nigel preens a bit.

Adam takes the opportunity to inspect him. Lean, and athletic, and tall. Very much Adam's type, all told. Now that he’s looking, he can see the wire of an earpiece under the too-long fringe of hair, but if Nigel is working the party, he doesn’t seem terribly conscientious about it. He's drinking, for one. If he's security, it's probably not in the interest of stolen silverware. It does make him a tad more interesting.

Nigel must catch him looking, because he grins at him, showing teeth. "Anyway, Adam Towers," he continues, "how does a posh little thing like you end up at a party with the likes of this lot?" He gestures inclusively. "They might have money, but they don't sound like you."

“We public-school fellows do like to slum it occasionally,” Adam drawls wryly, but he’s a bit annoyed that Nigel has made him when he can’t even decipher the man’s accent.

"Then it must be my lucky night."

“How lucky do you imagine you are?” Adam murmurs.

"Well, I must confess, recently I've had somewhat of a dry spell, but who knows." He gives Adam another sly once over. "Maybe my luck is on the turn."

“Perhaps.” Adam ashes the stolen cigarette and takes another draw. "So how long have you been in London, Nigel?"

“A few months,” he replies. “Not long.”

"Where are you from?"

“Bucharest,” Nigel murmurs. “Needed a change of scenery.”

Adam drains his glass and is immediately provided with another by a passing server. He could get used to it. "I can see the appeal. Not of London, obviously, but the change of scenery."

“I’d recommend it.”

“I like this shithole too much.”

“Maybe you need an internal change of scenery, then.” Nigel pats Adam’s cheek, then filches his cigarette back. Adam watches him tuck it between his lips, rapt.

"Any suggestions?" he raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing we can enjoy on this rooftop,” Nigel tells him.

"That's an absolute travesty."

“Only if you insist on staying.”

Interest piqued, Adam watches him stub the cigarette end out and then tap another from his pack. He offers it to Adam, smiling when he takes it between his lips. "Are you suggesting we leave?" he says indistinctly around the filter.

Nigel takes his own then flicks a lighter. “Only if you’re up for it, pretty boy.”

Adam distinctly is.

"Well, it's either that or throwing myself off the roof, so yeah, sounds all right." Adam looks at him thoughtfully. “Aren’t you working, though?”

"I'm more supervising, tonight. Darko can take care of it. Besides, it’s getting late. Excuse me one moment."

He fiddles with something on his belt and says something in quiet Romanian. Intrigued, Adam smokes half the cigarette while he waits for him to conclude his business. Finally, Nigel looks back at him and wraps an arm around his shoulders with a grin. He smells of tobacco and sharp cologne. "Come on then, gorgeous. Let's get you a change of scenery."

"Where did you have in mind?"

“My place.”

Adam raises his eyebrows. "All right. I do like a man who knows what he wants.”

"You'll be delighted in a while then." Nigel guides him out of the apartment, nodding to a menacing-looking man in a suit at the door- presumably Darko. Adam doesn’t bother with embarrassment. He’s had enough to drink that going home with a strange man seems like a grand idea. He never learns, it seems. For just a moment, he considers trying, but Nigel is compelling, and nowadays, Adam carries a knife. He’ll just have to roll the dice.

They ride the lift in silence, and when they get to the lobby, Adam sees that there's a car waiting. "Antique dealing pays," he comments wryly.

“Sure fucking does.” Nigel slips a tip to the valet and opens the door for Adam. When he follows him in, he sits with his knees spread, the curve of his biceps straining under the fabric of his shirt. He must know how good he looks, silvering hair falling into his eyes, his age more an accessory than a strain on his appearance. Adam wouldn’t presume to have a type, but Nigel fits the bill. "All right, gorgeous?" he asks Adam, after a few minutes.

“Yes, of course.” Adam is nervous, but the lockback pressing against his leg through his pocket lining helps a bit.

Nigel glances at him again. His head tilts. "Tell me why you're tense, now."

“I won’t pretend I’ve never done this before,” Adam says finally. “Many times.” A faint smile at the thought. “But it only takes one bad time to make a fellow - cautious.”

"And what happened, that bad time?" Nigel asks.

“I almost didn’t make it out of there,” Adam says, the swell of bad feeling threatening to swamp his pleasant champagne-drunk fog. Heat rises to his cheeks as he feels Nigel's considering stare. "Shit, I'm sorry. I've had too much to drink. It- uh, you don't know how you're going to be after these things, I suppose."

“I know how you’ll be after this thing,” Nigel murmurs. He slides a bit closer.

"Oh?" Huffing a laugh, half relieved, Adam raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Nigel murmurs, tucking a too-long curl back away from Adam’s face. His eyes are dark, the corners crinkled with his smile. Adam wets his lips.

"How will I be, Nigel?"

“Satisfied.”

"Promises, promises."

Nigel just laughs. “Wait and see.” He slides his arm around Adam's neck and keeps it there. They pull up to a detached townhouse on the outskirts of the Boltons, an area Adam knows by reputation but not experience. It's a nice spread, gardens and a drive, a feeling of exclusivity despite being on an estate. Nigel clearly is successful in whatever it is he's doing- and not too concerned about showing it. Adam’s true nature - all right, of being a nosy little prick, thanks ever so, Nigel - kicks in. Private security doesn’t pay this much unless you’re working for an oil magnate or a tech wunderkind. He's obviously not going to tell him the ins and outs- and Adam understands why he wouldn't- but the alarmed gate and security cameras on the walls make him wonder just how high-stakes Nigel's business really is.

He lets them into the house- almost unbearably well decorated, clearly off the hanger- and steers Adam straight toward the kitchen. Adam allows it, though he looks around curiously. "What do you want to drink?" Nigel asks, pouring himself a Scotch.

“Vodka rocks,” Adam says after a moment’s thought.

Nigel pours him a generous measure, adding ice from the built-in dispenser on the fridge with a look like he's working a spaceship. Adam gets the impression that his apparent wealth is... a recent acquisition. His wolfish smile as he hands it over is well-worn.

"I have to say, I never thought I'd end up in Chelsea," he tells Adam, sipping his drink, "it's crazy, the things I've seen. Excess and debauchery, all of it little more than distraction. And then there's me." He shakes his head at his glass again. "Standing on the edge of it all."

“I sense that is where you like to be, Nigel.”

"That's not a bad assessment." He takes a long sip of his drink. “Clearly you do as well, Adam.”

"Maybe not for the same reasons as you."

Nigel just raises a brow. "Maybe for exactly the same reasons."

Adam just shrugs, the liquor making it more eloquent than usual. "Easy to make a quick exit."

Nigel takes a step closer to where Adam leans against his worktop. “Good at that, are you?”

"I am exceptionally sneaky," Adam nods, breaking into a grin.

“Good to know.” Nigel is closer still.

Adam lets him step him against the counter, smiling softly. "Are you sneaky, Nigel?"

“When I need to be.”

"You don't have to be now, by the way."

“I’m not. I’m just taking my time.”

"You certainly are. I've almost finished my drink."

Nigel smirks. “Would you like another one? Something stronger?”

Humming thoughtfully, Adam touches at the collar of Nigel's shirt. "Something stronger?"

Nigel reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small baggie. “Yes? No? You’re shocked and appalled?”

"I'm delighted, and completely unsurprised."

“Well, then, that’s something.”

"What is it?" Adam peers at the little ziplock.

“Blow, darling. You’ve never tried it?”

Adam blushes at the surprise in his voice. "Don't say it like that, I'm a better swallower than a sniffer, is all."

Nigel barks out a laugh. “We can try that one out next.“

"All right. Be gentle."

“You’re precious.” Nigel busies himself tapping lines out onto his gleaming marble worktop.

"Priceless," Adam agrees, watching him.

“Do I really have to teach you how to do this, Adam Towers?”

"Just don't laugh at me when I throw up in your sink."

“Bet you this twenty pounds you won’t.” He rolls a note, raising his eyebrows in amusement. Adam watches him lean down and snort the first line.

"Your belief in me is something really special, Nigel."

“I know.” Nigel hands over the tubed bill, watching avidly as Adam leans down. He doesn't throw up, but he does scrunch his eyes up at the burning in his head; the whirl of light-headedness. In the next moment he feels a broad palm run down his back, all the way to the curve of his backside under his jacket tails.

"Oh, hello," he laughs a bit, gripping the edge of the counter as his back automatically straightens. Nigel steps in behind him this time, tucking up against his back.

"Hello, gorgeous. How do you feel?" His other hand tucks against his lower stomach, sliding under the hem and up to his ribs.

“Energized,” Adam murmurs.

"Very good." He feels Nigel's lips against his ear, his body a bank of warm muscle against his back. "That's what I like to hear."

“Did you have something energetic in mind?” Adam drawls, shivering at the feel of his featherlight kiss.

"Several somethings, actually."

“Tell me.”

"Well," Nigel lets his hand travel up over Adam's chest, voice casual, "I thought maybe I could fuck you in some unconventional spot in the house, and then suck you off in my bed later."

Adam laughs, bright in his own ears. “Did you have one in mind?”

"Well, there's here." Nigel kisses the side of his neck gently. "Or I have several ugly fucking chairs I could use some fond memories of. If those fail to inspire, I'm open to suggestion."

“I saw your sitting room,” Adam laughs. “You have lots of ugly chairs, I’ll have to come back several times.”

"That's valiant of you," Nigel chuckles, hands pulling at the hem of his jacket now, slipping it back off his shoulders. Adam lets his head fall back too, feeling Nigel brace his weight.

"Yes, I'm sure it'll be a huge undertaking."

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Nigel grinds playfully against him, hands working Adam’s belt buckle. Adam laughs, head still filled with heat. It stutters into a gasp when Nigel pushes his hand into the zipper of his jeans and curls his fingers around him through his shorts. The information his nerve endings are sending his brain is staticky like an old tv; he thinks it’s the coke, but Nigel’s ungentle, relentlessly teasing hands aren’t helping.

"God, that's good," he breathes.

“Room for improvement,” Nigel mutters, yanking his jeans and boxers both down around his thighs. Adam shivers a bit at the cool marble counter against his belly as Nigel pulls his sweater up, too.

"Didn't realise people under fifty wore these things," he teases.

“That’s rich coming from the guy peering over that line.” He’s practically vibrating from being pinned in place like this.

There's a little breath of laughter against his neck. Nigel pulls his own shirt off over his head and tosses it onto the floor, hands travelling down Adam's flanks before he presses back in close. "Decided where you want to fuck, darling?"

“Right here,” Adam groans softly. “Tell me you have lube.”

"Actually yes. Don't ask why."

“Is it because you’re an absolute slut, Nigel? Please say yes.”

"I couldn't earnestly deny it."

“Then get it out, Nigel, and put your fingers in me.” He knows how he sounds, and he doesn’t care. He's left alone for a moment, bereft, and then Nigel comes back and curls a hand around him as he slips slick fingers between his thighs. “That’s nice,” Adam gasps.

Nigel strokes over his taint, setting his teeth against his shoulder as he teases in. “Sleep with lots of men, do you, Adam?” he breathes when Adam just pushes back into his hand.

"What's your definition of a lot?" Adam goes up on his toes when Nigel strokes in deep, groaning weakly.

Nigel hums. “You mentioned an ex-girlfriend,” he says, “but unless she’s the one who liked to finger you...” He does something with his fingers that makes Adam stutter on his reply.

"That wouldn't be that strange."

“No, but you didn’t hesitate one fucking moment to come home with me.”

"I didn't realise you were a man," Adam jokes, yelping when Nigel bites him before dissolving into giggles.

“How about now, darling?”

Adam rolls his hips, gasping softly. "God, fine, yes I fuck a lot of men."

“Yeah? You’re a fucking cockslut, Adam, always waiting for the next person to bend you over?”

“Fuck, sometimes I’m the one doing the bending.”

“Good. Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Nigel breathes. He presses in with another finger slowly. Adam groans, tipping his head back against his shoulder, hands sliding a little on the grainy marble. “Good?” he repeats.

"Yes- yeah. Fuck, more-"

“All you can take, darling.” Nigel bites the backs of his shoulders again. It tingles all over, every nerve singing. Maybe the coke is hitting him harder, or maybe it's just Nigel.

"God, I want everything you've got."

He feels fingers twine into his hair, lifting him up so Nigel can mouth at his throat. “You sound good when you’re begging. Do it some more.”

"Oh, fuck. Please give me your cock," Adam murmurs, "please, please, fuck..." He feels like he’s splintering, like Nigel’s hands are holding him down from floating away.

Nigel's breath comes harder against his neck, fingers stroking faster until Adam is all but writhing. Then they’re gone, and it’s excruciating to be separate, but it doesn’t last long. Nigel rips open a foil behind him and unzips, kissing behind Adam's ear as he gets ready. Then, he's spreading him open, hands angling his hips as the head of his cock drags against Adam's skin. Their hips collide with more than a little force.

"Fucking hell," Adam gasps, half winded by it.

Nigel makes a half-savage noise into his ear. His fingers press livid marks into Adam's hips as he draws out and fucks sharply back in, setting a hard rhythm. The marble is cold against Adam’s chest. It's a welcome contrast to the fire in his belly; the heat of Nigel at his back. His hand settles by Adams's elbow on the counter as he presses over him, nosing at his nape. He never stops moving, fast and vicious and fluid. Adam lets himself be carried along.

"Fucking hell," he groans again. "Nigel, you're-"

“Yes?”

"Amazing," Adam gets out, "so good."

Nigel makes a pleased noise, reaching around him. Adam cries out again softly at the heat of his palm spreading around his cock. “So easy.”  
"A better arrangement for everyone, I've found."

He gives himself over to Nigel completely. It's heady to hear his low, urgent noises; feel his mouth against his skin. He feels so good. Adam feels good too; like he’s flying. Like he’s being remade. It makes him reach back for Nigel, sighing at the brush of his lips. Every one of Nigel’s movements winds him tighter. Then his hips tilt slightly, and something in the angle makes Adam choke on his breath, struck by heat.

"Fuck- do that again."

Nigel does it again, fingers tight as his hips snap in short, hard thrusts. His hand moves a fraction faster on Adam's cock, and the heat gets unbearable, everything drawing close on the precipice of too much.

“Nigel..!” he chokes out.

"Go on darling, show me how pretty you are when you come."

He doesn’t know if he’s pretty. He’s too busy moaning and splaying his fingers on the countertop. Nigel concentrates his strokes, and it's barely seconds before Adam is drawing tight again in long waves, coming hard against the side of the counter with a cry. He’s flying as Nigel moves to follow.

It feels like it's never ending, another shivery wave triggered by Nigel pulsing inside him. He collapses into the marble. Nigel pants against his hair, hips still circling minutely for a second before he relaxes and all but flattens him against the counter, startling a snigger out of him.

“Too much for you, old man?”

"Watch your mouth," Nigel chuckles.

“Make me.”

"Give me a minute and I will."

They both groan when Nigel pulls out, cleaning up with shaky hands. Adam pulls up his shorts unsteadily and kicks off his jeans, watching Nigel for a long moment. He’s shirtless, chest heaving, and the deep V of his hips framed by his unzipped trousers. It’s a bit maddening, how good it looks on him, greying hair and all.

He pours them both another drink. Adam accepts his with a murmur of thanks. He still feels jittery despite the heaviness in his limbs. He noses into Nigel, searching out a kiss: their first. When Nigel gives it to him with his soft, Scotch-scented mouth, it goes through him like another line of coke.

Nigel cups his cheeks and hums like he's never felt anything better. Adam can relate.

"Not bad, old man," he teases.

“I will end you.”

"If you can catch me." He doesn’t move, though, lets Nigel lift him up onto the counter top and leans down for more kisses.

"That wasn't too difficult," Nigel murmurs.

“Guess not. Maybe later.”

He tips their mouths back together, every press sweet and easy. Adam sighs and wraps his legs around his back, pulling them flush together. Eventually they break apart for more to drink. Nigel tucks an arm around him.

"Want to go sit on one of those ugly fucking chairs now?"

“Only if we’re sharing.”

"Rest assured I won't be releasing you anytime soon."

He doesn’t, even when Adam slides back down onto the floor and tugs him into the sitting room, where there is indeed a chair big enough and ugly enough to suit. Nigel turns on the TV using some kind of remote that first turns on the stereo, the ceiling fan and then the heating. He swears at it in vicious Romanian until it does as it's told. Adam tries not to laugh.

Nigel's look is all too knowing when he finally throws the remote off onto the coffee table with a clatter. He leans in to kiss Adam again. Adam grips his hair. He still can't settle. He doesn't know if he ever will again.

"So- tell me how often you pick up men at parties you're working, Nigel," he says eventually.

Nigel shrugs. “Sometimes it’s women.”

"I'm not debating that."

Nigel laughs. “As often as I can.” He strokes Adam's bare shoulder gently, eyes soft. "They don't usually fucking end up here, I can promise you that."

“I feel so special.”

"So you fucking should, Princess."

Adam looks down to where he’s sprawled across Nigel’s lap. Fair. He settles more comfortably, grinning at Nigel's wandering hands.

"Come on then, tell me your life story. I won't remember it tomorrow, I promise."

“It’s no fairy-tale.”

"Fairy-tales are boring."

“Spoken like someone who never needed escapism.” Nigel takes a swig of his drink. “My life has been far from fucking boring. No food, less money, too many guns. That’s fucking Bucharest for you- at least my neighbourhood.”

"Sounds charming. Can't imagine why you'd leave."

Nigel gives him a cool look. “I would have stayed, given the choice: I’d earned everything I needed, then what I wanted… Then I lost it all.”

"How?" Adam traces his jaw with his thumb gently.

“A woman. My wife. Ex-wife, now.”

Adam tilts his head. "What happened?"

“I did some things that were not smart. She met someone else. I did some things that were considerably less smart.”

Oh, that makes sense. "How not-smart are we talking?" Nigel guides his fingers to a furrow hidden in his hair, a long line of scar tissue from his temple to just above his ear. The lines and edges don't make sense to Adam for a moment, and then they do, and he frowns. "Nigel..."

“Bullet hit my temple, cracked my skull but mostly just left a fucking mess. I was in a coma for a week. My business partner Darko got me out of the hospital and we came here in a hell of a hurry.”

Adam feels the weight behind the words. He sighs, leaning to kiss Nigel's forehead gently. "I find myself pleased."

“You will in another hour or so.” Nigel caresses his side. Adam laughs but knows Nigel's heart isn't in it now he's talked about his wife. He scratches gently at his hairline again, rubbing pressure. “I killed the fucking mood, didn’t I? Should’ve done more lines instead.”

"I will take off if I do anymore coke," Adam says idly, "you didn't kill the mood. I like talking to you, Nigel."

“Well, thank fuck for that.” Nigel plays with his hair again. It feels so good on Adam's vibrating skull that he sighs again. "It's your turn to tell me your life story, Adam."

“Not as interesting as yours.”

"I seriously doubt that."

Adam snorts. “Poor little rich boy stories won’t piss you off?”

"I don't think you even think you're a poor little rich boy, you seem quite satisfied with your lot."

Adam shrugs. "I am, more or less. My father's family owns a lot of land around these parts; we always had money, but unfortunately I have always been a prick. I was disinherited for- well, several things- but having my family's connections made it fairly easy to secure myself a job, and I've been doing okay since. Sort of glad it turned out this way, actually."

Nigel cups the side of his face, caressing his cheekbone with a thumb. “Your honesty is fucking refreshing.”

"Not everyone seems to think so."

“Takes a prick to appreciate a prick, darling.”

"You won't appreciate it for long, I promise," Adam murmurs. He sighs at the thought, examining Nigel at length. He's heart-rendingly beautiful. Adam takes a big mouthful of his drink so he doesn't tell him so. He’s not allowed to get sappy. Is this the coke too? God, he doesn’t know if he wants to do more or not.

"What do you actually do, Adam?" Nigel asks, with a gentleness Adam didn't think he was capable of.

“I’m a journalist,” Adam says. “Mostly the tatty sort, that part was accurate.”

"Very sophisticated," Nigel drawls.

Adam shrugs. “I suppose. Like I said, I have connections.” He wriggles a bit on Nigel's lap, getting more comfortable. "I write other things as well. I actually write- well, I write poetry."

Nigel’s lips lift into a smile. “Of course you do.”

"Don't laugh-" Adam pouts. For once, he's blushing. Nigel seems charmed by it. "My editor says I'm good."

“I’m sure you are. You'll have to read me some."

“After much preparation, by which I mean alcohol.” Adam smirks. Nigel nods, and nudges him off his knee to go retrieve more drink. “Christ, Nigel, I didn’t mean right now,” Adam calls after him.

“I know, but I’ll want another one between now and whenever the fuck that is.” There's a clatter of steel on stone, and then considering silence from the kitchen. "Why is there a knife in your back pocket of your jeans?" Nigel says, sounding bemused.

“I told you there was one bad time,” Adam sighs.

"You should tell me about that," Nigel says, coming back with two bottles.

Adam eyes them. “There was...a woman, and a story.”

"Always a bad start, a woman," Nigel muses, pouring them both their respective drinks.

“Especially when they try to kill you,” he mutters, burying his face in the refreshed vodka glass. He sighs. "I put my nose in where I shouldn't and she - well, she was terrifying."

“Did you learn your lesson, darling?”

"Not exactly, but it did extinguish my choking kink somewhat."

Nigel just stares for a moment. “Shame,” he murmurs.

Adam nods, and takes another drink. Nigel - because he is a bit of a prick, clearly - touches his Adam’s apple. Steeling himself, Adam lets him with only a raised eyebrow.

“Are lips all right?” Nigel asks.

Hesitantly, Adam nods.

That’s all the permission Nigel seems to need to bury his face against Adams’s throat. His lips are gentle as he kisses under his chin, down over the ghost of where Adam still feels hands. It’s altogether more reassuring than he expected from someone like Nigel.

“I’m glad you’re not fucking dead, Adam,” he laughs softly. “You’re too pretty to strangle. What were they thinking?”

"Nothing others haven't thought before, I'm afraid."

“Adam,” Nigel scolds, accent deepening with his amusement, “you are a very naughty boy, aren’t you?”

"I have some unpleasant personality traits, same as anyone."

“And some very pleasant ones.”

"Who told you that?" Adam laughs.

“I’ve certainly been enjoying you.” Nigel smirks.

Adam smiles softly. “Well, Nigel, by all means continue.”

"Didn't I promise I would?"

He rather had, hadn’t he? Without another word on the matter, Nigel tugs Adam gently back into his lap, big hands framing narrow hips. Seemingly satisfied with the arrangement, he lights another cigarette. Adam accepts a puff or two before handing it back.

Nigel rubs his hip with his free hand. "All right?"

Adam nods. "My head feels like a bloody cellar though."

“How’s that, darling?”

"Sort of damp and empty."

“Unpleasant. Shall we give you something new to fill it with?”

"Oh, go on then." Adam smiles.

Nigel sets his cigarette aside and weaves a hand through Adam’s curls. The kiss is deep and demanding. Adam can’t help but like it. He shifts a little, squirming in his lap, Nigel’s hands travelling over his bare shoulders and down to his stomach.

“This is so much better than that party.”

"I couldn't agree more."

Adam touches him too, long strokes down his chest and flanks. Nigel wears many smaller scars on his arms and chest. Adam explores them thoroughly. He wants to know, but he doesn't want to stop kissing him. Nigel is addictive. He can easily see how he could have gotten into the straits he has.

“I’m starting to like this chair,” he tells him.

"I'm getting more fond of it as well," Nigel murmurs.

“It’s still ugly, mind you.” Adam nibbles gently on Nigel’s jaw.

"You're right, stand up."

Adam pouts but obeys. He yelps a bit when Nigel strips down his shorts and turns him around. He’s such an unpredictable mix of gentle and rough. His fingers sliding up between his cheeks are gentle. He’s still soft and open from before, but sensitive to the rough pads of callous. He gasps when Nigel pushes in where he’s still half slick and strokes, tugging him back down into his lap. He mutters something in Romanian, then, “Ride my fingers.”

"Fuck," Adam tips his chin up, rocking his hips with his hands on the arms of the chair. Nigel mouths under his ear. His fingers work deep, making him arch on his lap, choking on his breaths. Adam’s cock fills, lifts, the need in him rekindled in an instant.

"God, you feel good," Nigel murmurs. He's shifting underneath Adam too.

“Bet I taste good,” Adam says hopefully. He feel’s Nigel’s grin against his shoulder.

"Oh?"

“Just a suggestion.”

"Darling, anything you fucking want."

“I want- oh- I want to see your bedroom, then.”

"All right." Nigel kisses the skin under his mouth, easing his fingers away. "Go on, gorgeous."

Adam gathers his scattered clothing and finds the stairs on shaky legs. He can hear Nigel following with glasses, turning lights off as they go. Clearly he’s expecting Adam to stay. He thinks he's pleased by that.

He finds what must be Nigel's room, judging by the unmade bed and the profusion of cigarette butts in the bedside ashtray. It's nice in here, too. "You could throw a bloody party on this bed."

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

"Good point." Adam stretches a bit, turning to pull Nigel around, pushing him down onto the bed. "Tell me where you keep the stuff."

“Drawer,” Nigel points lazily.

Adam gets another bottle of lube and a rubber, climbing back into Nigel's lap, sighing when he kisses his stomach gently. “That’s nice.”

Nigel's fingers creep back up between his thighs, making him arch, his cock taking interest again. “What else was it you wanted, darling?”

"Want you to suck my cock," Adam breathes, "and then I want to sit on yours."

“Yes,” Nigel growls. Then he bows his head, pulling Adam up higher on his knees to mouth at his cock. Adam whines. He hands Nigel the lube shakily when he holds his up. “Just hold steady for me, there’s a good boy.”

Adam does, giving a shuddering cry when the slide of two fingers back inside is accompanied by the hot swallow of Nigel's mouth around his cock. He clenches his hands on his own thighs to hold himself steady. When Nigel presses in deep, his hips jolt forward, making him groan softly against his skin.

Nigel’s enthusiastic enough about it that he does it again on purpose. It sets him into the perfect position, grinding back on Nigel's fingers and forward into his waiting mouth. He's moaning in seconds, grabbing at the headboard for support. Nigel crooks his fingers and makes him even louder. His other hand grips tight at his hip, steering him every now and then.

Adam feels stuffed with sensation, every nerve ending caressed. He grips the headboard tighter. When Nigel's fingertips start to smoothly rub over his prostate, he goes silent and tight all at once, fighting his orgasm down with every ounce of control he can muster.

"S-stop, let me-"

Nigel laughs down in his throat, but he stops his fingers. When Adam eases back, his thighs quake, and Nigel's tongue isn't out to make them any steadier. He pushes him back with gentle fingers.

“Nigel. Don’t make me come yet.”

"Whatever you want, darling."

“I want you!” Adam laughs at his casual shrug. He holds his hands up, chuckling when Adam shifts and strips him out of his underwear with visible impatience, rolling on a condom. “Lube,” he demands.

Nigel hands it over obediently. Adam squeezes out a palmful and slicks him up. Slowly. It's gratifying to watch him bare his teeth. It makes him slow down even more, just to watch his eyes spark.

"Adam," he breathes, almost warning.

“Yes, darling?” Adam coos.

"Get your skinny ass on my cock."

“Skinny? I’ll have you know - “

Nigel claps a hand over his mouth. “It’s fucking mouth-watering, all right? Now, Adam.”

He jerks his head back, wiping his hands hurriedly on the sheets. "Okay, okay." He lifts up and wraps a hand around Nigel’s base. It's easy to let him handle him into position; pull him down onto his cock. They both groan, twin sounds of relief. If he'd felt like he'd slid back from the edge before, Adam feels himself pushed right back to it now, the cradle of Nigel's hips perfect against his, gratifyingly filling.

This time, though, he’s more in control of the pace. He arches slow at first, pulling up and letting gravity do the brunt of the other work. It feels so good, even though he’s more tender than usual - especially because he is, maybe. Watching Nigel is more than half the pleasure. He's expressive in his own, verbal too.

Half of it is swearing, half in Romanian; his skin is beginning to gleam with sweat. He grips Adam's hips and moves him faster, all the while kissing his chest and throat, hair falling into his eyes as their movements grow more urgent.

Adam throws his head back and lets himself be loud. They start to fuck faster, harder, Adam's knuckles whitening on the headboard again. He curls over Nigel and groans softly at the press of his lips against the underside of his jaw.

“You’re so good,” Nigel purrs against his skin. "Look like a fucking angel like this."

“I’m not,” Adam whispers. Nigel’s eyes are warm.

"Probably why you look like one."

Adam can't find an answer that isn't cruel or too much, so he kisses him again, muffling his own shivery cries as Nigel starts to piston his hips with intent.

When they shift, it lines Nigel up with his prostate again. Clenching on every stroke of heat, Adam starts to pant, wrapping a hand around his cock and whining through his teeth when Nigel thrusts faster still. He rocks his hips down to meet each one. The seconds stretch, and he gasps as it starts, pulling him taut as a bow. He has to squeeze his eyes shut as he comes wet and messy against Nigel’s stomach, hand moving frantically over his slick, flushed length. Nigel fucks him through it with his teeth ground, their skin slapping, everything wet and easy now. Gasping through the sensitivity, Adam keeps rocking down. He's still twitching with the stimulation when Nigel grips at his hair and comes with three deep, hard shoves and a growl.

“God,” Adam groans. They clutch at each other for a long moment, panting into one another's mouths. Finally, he finds his voice again. “Yes. That was just as good as I was expecting.”

"Anything for you, Princess," Nigel mutters, apparently less coherent. Adam kisses him slowly, hands soothing across his chest.

Humming in content, Nigel pulls back with another startlingly gentle kiss to his chin. "Can you sleep yet?"

Adam thinks about it. “...Probably.” He lifts off Nigel unsteadily, standing on shaky legs. "Bathroom?" He points at a likely looking door.

Nigel nods as he stretches out on the mattress.

Inside, Adam cleans up with unsteady hands, bumping into things periodically. He's more inebriated than he'd thought, but that’s okay. He wobbles a bit as he goes back into the bedroom. "Borrowed some of your mouthwash, hope you don't mind."

“Should have had you bring me some,” Nigel says lazily. “Oh well.”

"Where would you have spat it?" Adam snorts as he crawls back into Nigel's waiting arms, mindful of his cigarette.

“Back into the cup? I thought you were smart.” Nigel pinches his chin; takes another drag of his smoke.

"That's revolting!"

Nigel just snorts. "I've been called worse." He offers Adam the cigarette, which he takes a toke on before handing it back. Nigel's free hand strokes lightly down his flank where Adam's head rests on his shoulder. It's more comfortable than Adam expected, despite two rounds of incredible sex. Nigel just has no pretension about him. Adam, who probably has more than his fair share, enjoys it.

"This was fun," he murmurs.

“It was,” Nigel agrees. He takes another long drag on his cigarette, cherry flaring in the dark. "You're staying, right?"

“Yeah, I’m staying.” Adam closes his eyes and then looks at the bedroom door, inwardly debating.

"Good." Nigel reaches to stub his cigarette out. His arms go around Adam again, warm and secure. Eventually, Adam hears his breaths go even and deep. He remains awake, gazing at the ceiling, restlessness rising in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

When Nigel wakes on Sunday morning, he rolls over expecting a warm body and gets only cold sheets. It takes him a moment to drag himself upright, and when he does, he blearily spies a note on the bedside table. He snatches it up, willing his brain to come online.

_Thanks for improving my evening immensely_ , it says. Nigel turns it over. Nothing else. No number, no address, no _see you around_.

"What the fuck," he mutters. “What a little asshole.” It’s annoying when it comes out half-admiring.

He gets up, grunting at the state of himself, naked and stiff and feeling distinctly unclean. He strips the sheets off the bed while he smokes a cigarette and then goes to take a shower. He’s feeling in the mood to hit things. He's not used to waking up alone- not after nights like those.

“This is why you don’t fucking invite them home, Nigel,” he grumbles to himself.

More than being simply annoyed by Adam's disappearance, he's perturbed by his own reactions. He shouldn’t care about any of this. All he knows, washing the scent of Adam off him, as that he does. Last night was the first time in a while that he hasn't spent the encounter waiting for it to end.

He’d enjoyed Adam’s reactions, and lazy taunts, and his tentative truths, and now he’s wondering what was real.

On a shallower level, he'd liked watching him move on his dick. He’d liked that a lot, actually, and he’d hoped for a repeat performance. That's possibly more annoying than anything else, making him scrub his face and hair hard on the shower before he shuts the water off and stalks out to grab a towel.

He dresses sloppily and goes downstairs to make coffee. There's still evidence of Adam downstairs- handprints smeared on the shiny countertop in the kitchen; a condom foil on the floor. Lip curling at the thought, Nigel grabs an ashtray and goes back to the living room when he's got his drink.

Because he’s already brooding, he sits in the fucking ugly chair. He smokes four cigarettes before he manages to get out of it again. Even though he's calmer, he's still fucked off. He's killed people for less than this kind of vexation. That was in the bad old days, granted, but he hasn’t changed that much. He digs his phone out of his discarded pants from last night and calls Darko.

“Didn’t think you’d be functional this early,” Darko grumbles when he picks up.

"Well, I am, and I'm fucking angry."

Darko sighs. “Who do I need to kill?”

"No one, I want an address."

“You’re going to do the killing?”

"I- fucking damn it, Darko, I'm not doing that shit over here, you know I'm not."

He hears Darko sigh. “Fine, what’s the name?”

"Adam Towers. He's a journalist, if that helps."

“He bothering you, Nige?”

"Trust me, Darko, if he were, it would only be once. I just want to pay him a visit."

Swearing under his breath, Darko sighs again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Nigel hangs up, not entirely sure what he'll do with the information once he has it. All he knows is that he wants it. “No fucking manners, Adam Towers,” he grumbles. He spends the rest of the afternoon in the chair, chain smoking and remembering.

When he meets with Darko at their next job the next evening, he's expectant. Darko, for his part, looks knowing.

“This is the guy you went home with the other night,” he greets Nigel.

"Well observed." He gets a nearly irresistible urge to slap the smug look off of Darko’s face.

"If you're already stalking him, I'm guessing it went well."

Nigel growls. "Shut your mouth, cocksucker."

“Or...not well,” Darko muses, unintimidated. “Holy fuck, did he sneak out on you? I pity the boy.”

Nigel sets his jaw, waiting for Darko to stop being a shit. It takes several minutes of Darko smoking and chuckling intermittently. Then he hands Nigel a piece of paper with an address and phone number on it.

Stuffing it unceremoniously in his pocket, Nigel points a warning finger at him. "Don't mention this again."

Darko shrugs a _who, me_? shrug.

Nigel lights a cigarette with a grumble, thoughts straying back to Adam. Little brat, making him go through this. He has the fleeting thought that maybe Adam doesn’t want to see him again but dismisses it: he wants to see Adam. That's reason enough for him.

They work the party. Nigel spends most of it staring out of the window, preoccupied. These private security jobs pay decently, but they’re really just a foot in the door. And largely a cover. Nigel spots Darko discussing with their employer of the evening, both of them wearing mirroring expressions of caution. Nigel is better at many things than Darko but talking is not one of them.

He takes the rumpled address out of his pocket and studies it, frowning to himself. Once again, that posh background is showing. Even considering he's been disinherited, Adam’s digs are near Camden Lock, though not in the tourist area. Nigel rolls a cigarette filter back and forth between his teeth and finally tucks the address away again. Tomorrow. He'll go tomorrow. And if Adam doesn’t want to see him... Well, he'll wait until he does. He can be patient.

The next morning, he gets in his car and sets off, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he's immediately stalled by London traffic. Nigel generally drives like someone who’s only recently taken his leave from Bucharest - or possibly, from his senses - so he just grits his teeth and smokes. Eventually, though, he slams into park on a busy high street, looking up at Adam's apartment. It's situated on top of a florist's, grand in facade despite the worn white mouldings.

Time for a reckoning. Lighting a cigarette and flicking his hair out of his face, Nigel walks to the door to the stairs, surprising a Boho-looking couple that are coming out of it. They give him matching expressions of concern as he silently pushes past them and starts up the stairs. He grimaces as he clears the landing. Assholes.

Up the next set of stairs to the penthouse- of course. He knocks on the door and ignores the voice in his head telling him Adam is probably at work like every other poor twat trapped in this city. He’ll wait. He has time.

He's surprised when Adam answers the door- but apparently not as surprised as Adam, who is wearing a shirt and boxers and smells of pot smoke.

“Nigel,” he stammers, “what the fuck.”

"Hello, gorgeous." He is, utterly. The strip of hip revealed by his gaping shirt still bears evidence of Nigel's hands. It makes his annoyance ebb a few critical degrees. Enough to notice how upset Adam looks. That’s exactly the moment Nigel remembers the woman, and the knife.

"Nigel, I'm ex-directory. How did you-?"

“I have resources.”

"And why are you using them to find out where I live?"

Nigel gives him a dirty look. “Because you snuck out and left me a fucking thank-you note.”

That makes Adam laugh, eyebrows shooting up.

“I did tell you I was exceptionally sneaky.” He picks up his joint from the ashtray on the hall table but still doesn't invite Nigel inside. His pale arm comes to rest against the doorframe as he takes a drag.

"Has no one ever done that to you before, Nigel?"

“What do you think?”

"I think you're fucking unbelievable."

“You’d better be planning to add ‘in bed’ to that sentence, Adam.”

"Or what?"

“Or I will be quite fucking devastated.” He manages not to make it sound overly threatening, though it certainly doesn’t sound sincere.

“Devastated that someone might call you out on being an entitled twat? Do you really think that you coming over here with some big gesture will win me over, and not just make me think you can’t take no for an answer?”

Nigel hadn’t precisely anticipated being chewed out. Snappishness, maybe. Bemusement. Alarm? Not so much. But it’s fear he sees in Adam’s face; the tense line of his shoulders. For a moment it opens Nigel up to the scene at large- a near stranger turning up at his house uninvited, wanting to be let in like the last time. It pricks his conscience: not a feeling he enjoys.

“… I must admit, I had only thought as far as the fucking gesture, darling. Not the other implications.” He drops his head, unexpectedly shamefaced.

“Well the other implications are fucking scary, Nigel.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you-” frustration bleeds in, “you snuck out, and I wanted to fucking see you again-!”

Adam looks him over, expression softening- though reluctantly. "You really liked me that much? Hell, Nigel. You've got shit taste."

“You clearly didn’t like me; yours must be much better.”

"I found you completely intoxicating and entirely beautiful," Adam corrects him, the snark in his voice making it sound less like a compliment.

“Well, la di fucking da. Pardon me while I swoon.” Nigel sighs and pulls out his wallet. He hands Adam a card. “Here, keep this, if you ever have the urge to be...intoxicated again.” Smirking to himself, he turns away from the sight of all that pale skin.

"Wait, wait." Adam rolls his eyes. "There's no need to be dramatic. Come inside. I'll put some pants on."

“Don’t bother on my account,” Nigel says.

"Well it's up to you, you can be a martyr and have literally tracked me down just to say, 'here's my number,' or you can come inside and have a drink and make me more likely to call it."

Nigel rolls his eyes and follows him inside. “I meant the pants, Princess.”

"Oh. Well, fine. What do you want to drink? I've got beer. Or coffee."

“Beer will do just fine,” Nigel answers. He's looking around Adam's flat with undisguised intrigue.

Where his house is decorated to within an inch of its life, Adam's is neutral but injected with his personality in increments: clusters of paintings and postcards on the walls, several vases of wilting flowers. And of course, the rolling supplies left scattered on his coffee table. “Creative process?” Nigel murmurs.

"I know, I'm a parody of myself." He offers Nigel the blunt with a tilt of his wrist. Nigel accepts; puffs as he circles around the big loft space, eyes climbing over everything. Adam's bed, visible through his open bedroom door, is unmade. A bra hangs on a radiator. The curtains are the same pale blue as Adam's eyes.

“Nice lingerie,” Nigel snarks.

Adam glances at it, then snorts slightly.

"Thanks." He hands Nigel a beer and slips down onto the balding velvet sofa where his notebook sits.

Nigel takes another puff of the joint and hands it back. “Inspiration strike yet?”

"Yes, thanks." Adam smiles at him.

“Is it the poetry or the tatty gossip today?”

"Poetry, darling."

“Will you share?”

Adam shoots him a coy look from beneath his lashes. "What if I'm shy?"

Nigel laughs. "Who are you kidding, Princess?"

“Not you, clearly.” He holds his notebook up and flicks back through a few pages, stretching his pale, bare leg out against the emerald sofa. Flicking his hair out of his eyes, he starts to softly read.

Nigel is surprised. It’s both evocative and filthy, surprisingly lyrical. Adam is clearly ruled by more romantic stars than he'd first led Nigel to believe. It’s a little pretentious, but, well. That’s to be expected. As is it being good.

For his part, Adam keeps his voice soft and his eyes fixed on the book until he’s finished, but then glances at Nigel, who acknowledges him with a salute with his beer bottle.

"I should have known with an ass like that you'd have the heart of an angel."

Adam stares for a moment, then cracks out a laugh. "Careful, you're starting to sound like a cliché."

“English is my second language,” Nigel drawls, sipping the beer and eyeing the flex of his calf muscles as he shifts.

Adam must catch his line of sight because he flexes his toes knowingly.

"I know. I like it. I like everything you say." He reaches for the smouldering joint; relights the cherry with a smoke-filled sigh. “What did you say when you woke up and I wasn’t there?” he asks, sharp as a little silver knife.

"I cursed you out."

“Did you break things?”

"No. Would you have liked that, Adam?"

“No,” Adam says, pretty clearly lying.

Surprised by the change of tune, Nigel looks at the beer bottle in his hand, considering. "You are fucked up, Princess. I think you're more pleased to see me than you're letting on."

“You think?” Adam blows smoke toward the ceiling, head tipped back. Nigel moves fast, shifting to the couch. The smile Adam gives him is impossibly dirty.

“May I kiss you, Adam?” Nigel asks.

“You may.” He takes another hit of the joint, and Nigel moves in, sealing their lips together before he can exhale. With smoke pouring from his nostrils, he hums as Adam winds his arms around his neck and kisses him in earnest. He lets his weight down onto him, their hips slotting together. Adam is too lovely to resist like this, pale and malleable. More smoke escapes when he breaks the kiss to drag Nigel's lower lip between his teeth.

Nigel rakes a hand through his curls. It triggers a gratifying sigh of approval; Adam's long legs folding around his waist.

"Do you come after everyone who sneaks out on you?"

Nigel laughs. “No, darling, you’re special.”

"Oh? What was it that made me special?"

“Your stunningly bad attitude.”

"You seem to have a pretty shitty one yourself."

Nigel shrugs, searching out his mouth again. "Having a good one never did seem to help."

Adam makes a noise of agreement, taking another pull on the joint and sealing their lips again. It lights Nigel up with a low buzz as they kiss. When Adam pulls back, he looks thoughtful.

"Does all this mean you want to see me again, then? Or did you just fancy another round?"

“What do you think, smart boy?”

"I can think anything. I want you to tell me."

Nigel sighs softly, “I don’t want you to disappear again.”

"And if I do?"

“My life will fucking go on, Princess. But I suppose that is your choice.”

Adam tilts his head and gives Nigel a look as if to say, _that's not the impression I'm getting_.

Nigel meets it stone-faced. "Do you really think I'm incapable of taking no for an answer?"

"I think you strongly dislike it."

“Are you planning on saying no, Adam?”

Adam sighs, and strokes slowly through his hair. "No, and I'm glad to see you... but I need to know that you aren't going to do anything else fucking alarming, Nigel. Illegally obtaining my address and turning up at my house is... a lot."

Nigel bites his tongue. If that’s a lot, he hates to think what Adam would do if he found out Nigel’s actual profession. At his hesitation, Adam frowns.

“I won’t invade your privacy any further,” Nigel says seriously. He can at least promise that.

"Thank you. I'll try to... be more civil, next time."

Nigel strokes his hair again, watching his face, crystal-clear eyes.

"Want to see my room?" Adam asks softly. "Seems only fair."

“Got a peek of it. Looked a mess.” Nigel smirks softly.

"It is. We can stay here if you'd rather."

“No, no, let’s go, by all means.” Exaggeratedly polite, Nigel rises and offers him a hand. Adam rolls his eyes, stubbing out the butt of the joint as he follows.

Nigel pauses in the middle of the room to look around. There's a window bench laden with cushions and an ashtray; heaps of books and clothes scattered around. A guitar is propped by the bed. It’s as bohemian as he might have guessed from the building or the other tenants.

"Are you a fucking hipster, Adam?" he asks teasingly, nudging more clothes out of the way with his foot, not all of them necessarily his.

Adam shrugs, the shirt falling down to bare a shoulder. Nigel moves to kiss it at once, willingly distracted. He feels instantly drunk as soon as he has his hands back on Adam’s body, a buzz in his limbs and between his hips that rivals any second-hand smoke. He's not sure what this bitchy, snotty little shit has done to him, but he's done it well.

He’s brushing Nigel's hair back from his face with tender fingers now, sighing at the contact of his mouth. In his own space, Adam is all lazy bare limbs and Nigel can’t devour him fast enough. He strips the shirt off his arms and lifts him, smiling at his little yelp; thighs folding around his middle. Adam starts to tug his shirt open with impatient hands as soon as his back hits the bed. His lips attack the base of Nigel’s throat. Wriggling out of the shirt, Nigel reconnects their mouths. Adam is straddling him, rocking against him almost unthinkingly.

"Gonna let me fuck you again, Princess?" Nigel hums.

“What if I want to?”

He stalls a bit, surprised- though not unhappily. "Then you can."

“How generous.”

"What do you want, a fucking invitation?"

“Maybe a tattoo,” Adam says, biting at the one on Nigel’s neck. “A big red arrow.”

"Only if you get one too." He groans as Adam bites just a bit too hard.

"Sure, mine can be a target."

“On that beautiful ass of yours.” Nigel lets Adam flip them and lay him out on the wrinkled sheets, stripping him out of his pants. Adam grins and dips to nip his belly before tugging off his boxers.

Whether it’s compensating for his earlier behaviour or something else, Nigel is happy to let Adam go about this as aggressively as he likes. There's a shallow, thrumming anxiety in him about what he's agreed to- a product of his upbringing, reinforcement through past experience- but it's not his first time, and he's fairly confident it won't be the worst. He doesn't believe Adam has it in him to be anything but incredible. He wants the little asshole to have whatever he wants.

He's always been quickly infatuated- all it takes is that one thing that he can't resist. Adam has dozens. Including a pretty mouth that he's finally wrapping around Nigel's cock. Nigel drops his head back and groans. “Yes, fuck. Just like that.”

He tangles his hands into his hair and arches, smiling at Adam's soft noise. Adam may want to fuck him, but he doesn’t seem to mind taking Nigel deep either. The fingers of one hand circle the base of his cock as he hollows his cheeks, smearing spit down as the other palms at his balls. Nigel threads a hand into his hair.

"Fucking hell, Adam," he grits, rocking up to watch him swallow and whine. He can barely think, with all the blood rushing south.

Ever dedicated to making nice things less so, Adam lets his teeth nick against the crown of Nigel's cock as he pulls off. Nigel hisses softly.

"You are such a little-"

“Go on, say it,” Adam urges, stroking back behind his balls with exploratory fingers. Nigel grits his teeth on a moan, but he can't speak, too busy mentally tracking Adam as he reaches down the side of the bed and opens a drawer.

“You look nervous,” Adam breathes.

"I'd be very careful where you're going with that line of thought, Adam, darling."

“Oh?” He grins as he pumps lube onto his fingers, spreading it over both hands. He wraps one back around Nigel's still spit-slicked length, two fingers teasing at him with the other. "Do you not like to feel nervous, Nigel?"

“Of course not.”

"I quite like it, nowadays." He sounds like he's discussing the weather instead of squeezing Nigel's cock while he pushes one slick finger inside him. He meets Nigel’s eyes when his breath hitches. "A change of scenery."

“You must have liked the view the other night, then,” Nigel murmurs, following his intrusion with a long exhale.

"You could say that. Is that all right?" He works his hand in a tight, slow rhythm, letting him relax before his finger slides deeper and gently moves.

“Yes,” Nigel murmurs, voice going tight with sensation.

"You look stunning like this," Adam says, lifting his hand from Nigel's cock briefly to press his thighs further apart.

“How so, darling?”

"Mm, just- so powerful and mean looking, here in my room, on duck egg sheets with your soft parts all on show."

Nigel can’t form a sentence, so he shows him his teeth. It gets him a soft, adoring smile from Adam, and a quick thrust of his finger, the action seeking.

"Yeah, that's it." He adds a second finger to the first when Nigel jumps and groans, angling them slightly.

"Fuck- Adam-"

“Gorgeous,” Adam drawls, stroking slowly. "How does it feel?"

“Like you lit me up.” Nigel shivers. Adam kisses the inside of his knee.

"Bloody hell, don’t hold back."

“You’re such a shit,” Nigel says, eyes squeezing shut.

"Aw, you don't mean that."

Nigel most emphatically fucking does. He wants to tell him, but Adam is rubbing his thumb in torturous circles over the tip of his cock as he starts to thrust his immersed fingers in quick, sharp motions. He just breathes raggedly through it and waits for Adam to decide he’s had enough.

When he does, he follows it up with the press of a third finger, and the slow, purposeful drag of his tongue against his cock.

“Fuck,” Nigel spits. He touches Adam's crown again, and Adam allows him a few shallow, wet strokes into his mouth before he pulls back, the damp sound of his lips obscene.

"Almost ready." Nigel can feel it, the stretch and press making his hips go liquid.

"Adam," he tugs at his hair gently, "I'm ready now- I want it now. Fucking- hurry up." His muscles are jumping with how tightly he’s holding himself. Adam gives his wrist a vicious little twist and hums approval when Nigel chokes.

"Are you sure?"

“Yes,” Nigel growls softly.

The grin on Adam's face is a hateful, smug thing. Nigel would slap him if he didn't find it so charming. He grunts as the fingers leave him, Adam focusing on opening a rubber. He applies more lube, too, eyes flashing back up to Nigel’s face. "Ready, tough guy?"

“Adam, I swear to fucking God.”

"Mm, all right, darling, hold on." He shifts, pulling a pillow from the end of the bed and stuffing it under Nigel's hips, effectively tilting him. Before Nigel can give him hell about it, he settles in between his splayed thighs, guiding his cock against him steadily. Nigel has to concentrate on breathing instead of cursing. Adam is a thick, hot point of pressure as he eases inside, slow but not quite gentle.

Nigel is somewhat soothed by the contortions of his beautiful face. The overload of sensation isn’t one-sided. Before he's fully submerged, Adam pauses to run his palms over Nigel's thighs, so deliciously gentle and reverent that it sets a new fire in his gut.

"Okay?"

Nigel hooks a heel in the small of his back and tugs. It startles a matching gasp from each of them.

Adam digs his fingers in and gives a savage little snap of his hips, teeth bared. Nigel pushes himself up, fingers snagging at Adam’s nape.

"That’s it, vicious little boy, show me what you can do."

Adam makes a choked noise and moves again. It's a tight, hot drag. Nigel arches immediately, jaw setting with tension. When he thinks about what it means, though, having Adam inside him, he moans softly. The dam between them breaks. Adam grips at his cheek and bows over him, movements becoming fast and fluid.

"Nigel..."

“Kiss me,” he rasps.

Adam does, soft and urgent. Nigel sucks on his tongue gently, hips flexing. Adam's thrusts come slower and deeper at the change of angle, making both of them groan.

They wrap around each other, shameless now. It's enthralling. Nigel bites at Adam's jaw and chin, panting his approval. They move as one, sweaty, swearing, clutching. After a few minutes, Adam gets a hand between them to stroke Nigel. The feeling of his shifting grip makes Nigel groan. He's constantly surging, striking nerves Nigel isn't sure he knew existed before this, smiling at the breathless abandon he's instilling in him. He still looks like an angel, damp curls falling across his forehead.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Adam," Nigel buries his face against his shoulder. "More."

“All right, yes,” Adam breathes. The next shove of his hips makes them both shake. He does it again, though. And again. Nigel's cock is starting to drip pre-come against the hard planes of his belly. Adam is filling him up, every nook stretched around him.

Nigel’s hand joins Adam’s around his cock, squeezing his fingers tighter. He watches Adam's movements, smooth and animal, and swears viciously under his breath when Adam nudges that spot inside him that makes him strain for more. Adam makes a wordless sound of approval. He's good at this. He's good at anything that involves undoing Nigel, it seems. And Nigel is wholly undone, straining muscle and sparking nerves.

Adam jerks him harder, path slicked by the way he's leaking, and he's suddenly so close it renders him breathless. He surrenders entirely to Adam’s ungentle hands. His orgasm comes with blinding force, sweet and fierce over Adam's fingers and onto Nigel's chest. Adam swallows his groan, hips going frantic. It's so much sensation that Nigel grabs at him, breaths ragged, steeling himself against the second wave of heat. Adam bucks into him a few more times, face pressing hard against his throat, finally jerking and stilling with a strangled sound.

Their breaths are the only sound then, loud and ragged. Adam doesn’t move until he’s softened, and even then just fractionally to the side, cradled in Nigel’s arms. "Well, I'm glad you came over," he murmurs.

“Planning to invite me back?”

"Maybe," Adam allows.

“Planning to come to mine?”

Adam gives him a soft smile. "Take me for dinner first."

“Anywhere you’d like.” Nigel means it. He can already picture the perverse glee on Adam’s face, the two of them sitting at a table in some posh place with Adam’s wild curls and Nigel’s tattoos on display.

"Careful," he murmurs, reading his mind, "I've got expensive taste."

“I’ve got more money than the fucking Queen,” Nigel says, without arrogance.

"Good." Adam smiles. Nigel knows at some point he’ll start to wonder about that, clever little prince that he is, but for now he kisses him to forestall it.

"What now?" he murmurs.

“Now I’m hungry, so we order food,” Adam says after a moment of thought. "You can pay, as you're so rich."

“Of course.” Nigel remains undisturbed.

He feels Adam's smile against his skin. “My phone is in the other room,” he complains lazily.

"God, you're a whining little fuck." Nigel stretches for his jeans at the end of the bed.

Adam just grins and steals his phone. It's his civilian one- no coded texts Adam might accidentally tap onto. Nigel shakes his head and watches Adam type. "What do you want?" he asks idly.

“Indian? Pizza? Doesn’t matter, Princess.” They bat it back and forth a while, then Adam dials it in.

When he's done, he curls back against Nigel, stretching out catlike against his flank. He runs his fingers through Nigel’s chest hair. Enchanted by his capriciousness, Nigel holds him close and savours it.

“How long do we have?”

"He said forty minutes." Nigel hums agreement, playing with a damp curl behind Adam’s ear. Adam hums in content. "Tell me about the last time you got fucked like that."

“It was a long time ago, Adam. What do you want to know?”

"How, why, who, the usual."

It had been the spoilt, pretty heir apparent to a Russian drug cartel. He’d taken a liking to Nigel, who was decidedly not above using his body to close a deal. He’s not sure how to tell that story.

"A guy back home. It was- I don't know. Nearly fifteen years ago now." Shit, that makes him feel old. "We were... mentally compromised."

“Did you need that to let someone fuck you?”

"It fucking helped."

“Poor Nigel,” Adam taunts softly, fingers still ruffling his chest hair.

"He was no Adam Towers at any rate."

“I’m unique.”

"You certainly are." Fuck, Nigel is in so much trouble here. He thinks Adam knows it, too, the way he's smiling. Nigel closes his eyes, scrambling for a diversion. "So- you work from home."

“Most of the time, yes,” Adam replies.

"Unless you're hanging around at fancy parties. Hoping for a scoop?"

“Always. Sometimes I get other things instead.” Adam leers up at him.

Nigel kisses him. "Not that you deserve them."

“Of course not. That’s what makes them more fun.”

"What a little beast you're turning out to be, Adam."

“Takes one to know one.” Nigel nods at that, growing solemn at the thought. Adam must be watching his face, because he digs his fingers into Nigel’s ribs. "Got something on your mind?"

“Sometimes I think I’m tired of being a beast.”

"You can't help what you are. Or are we going to talk nature versus nurture?" Adam digs his little white teeth into his shoulder. "Want me to nurture you, darling?"

Nigel stifles a groan. “Will you make me better or worse?”

"Depends what part of you gets the most nurturing, I suppose."

Nigel snorts. "Fucking hell, don't have any kids."

Adam laughs. “I don’t plan on it.” He noses under Nigel's jaw slowly. “If I tell you I like you beastly, will you be disappointed?”

"On the contrary. It's best that we both know what we're getting ourselves into." He still feels the weight of his business looming in the back of his mind. But it’s easy enough to ignore. He’s done it before - not with Gabi, but look how that had ended up for him.

Adam kisses his chest. Nigel strokes his hair. It's quiet and calm for a while. Eventually they struggle back into clothing so that they’ll be ready for the deliveryman. It's starting to draw dark out, and Adam puts on a few small lamps rather than any overhead lights. It's endearingly camp. One of them even has a silk scarf draped over the shade.

"Do people like this whole bougie poet thing you have going on?" Nigel asks him.

Adam laughs. “Yes, of course.” He glances at Nigel. "Don't you?"

“My wife was a concert cellist,” he says. “She was always surrounded with people like you.”

"People like me? That doesn't sound good. If I’m ‘people like me,’ what are ‘people like you,’ Nigel?”

"People like you..." Nigel reaches out and tugs him in, "are what make people like me human."

Adam eyes him silently for a moment. “I see.”

Nigel cups his hips, leaning his forehead against his chest. Adam's fingers comb through his hair. Nigel kisses his stomach gently.

"This is a bad idea," Adam murmurs, eventually. Nigel wants to ask him to specify but suspects it would be unproductive. He wants badly to convince him otherwise but doesn't know how.

“Welcome to my life,” he sighs.

Adam sighs too, quietly. He doesn't stop touching Nigel- they don't stop touching one another- until the buzzer goes. Food gives them distance but also a sense of intimacy. Adam gives him a bowl with a chip in the rim and a floral pattern; another beer. Nigel loves how he looks in his underwear and shirt again, draped over the sofa. Maybe he is weak for the bohemians. Maybe it's just Adam, with his sharp eyes and cherubic appearance.

Maybe it doesn’t matter.

He reaches out and touches his calf, cupping the muscle, managing to make it almost absent. Inside, he’s savouring it.

Adam wriggles his toes under his leg and sighs. He looks like he’s savouring it too, not that Nigel expects him to admit it. "So, have you got work on tonight, Nigel?"

“Always,” Nigel says, putting his bowl down and rummaging for a cigarette.

"That's a shame."

“It’s a night owl kind of job,” Nigel says, accepting the ashtray Adam hands him.

"Another party?"

“Nightclub this time.”

"Someone in particular?"

Nigel shrugs. “Someone rich and bored, as always.”

Adam nods, seemingly sensing his reluctance to discuss the work. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again one night.”

"Or maybe you could let me fucking call you like a normal person."

“Where’s your sense of mystery, Nigel?”

"My sense of mystery has gotten me into enough fucking shitty situations that I generally ignore it."

Adam shakes his head sadly. Little bastard. "Tell me more about that."

“Do you always ask so many fucking questions?”

"Yes," Adam looks completely unapologetic. “Journalist, remember?”

Nigel huffs and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just say I poke around in lots of dark alleys.”

"What do you find in places like that?"

“Trouble, usually.”

"You know, it's very frustrating talking to someone who won't give you a single straight fucking answer," Adam tells him obstinately.

Nigel raises a pale brow. “Is it? I’d have no idea how that feels,” he says dryly. He's amused by Adam's offence.

"Oh please. Ask me anything you want. I'll tell you the truth."

“‘ _Maybe we’ll run into each other again one night_ ,’” Nigel mimics Adam’s crisp accent. “Are you trying to blow me off?”

That makes him quiet for a second, but his expression isn't- guilty, per se.

"I just don't think I should inflict myself upon you- I'm not... good at this kind of thing." Nigel finds it hard to argue with that, honestly. Adam gives him a once over, and then bites his lip. "You are an exceptionally good fuck, though, which does weigh heavily into the matter."

“You can just call me when you want to fuck, if you like,” Nigel drawls.

"That's not all you want, though."

“It’s nice to have a conversation here and there.” He reaches out, handling Adam carefully into his side, stroking through his hair. "I'm not harbouring illusions that you're a sweetheart under it all, darling. Be a cunt to me all you like. I'll still want more. The only thing you have to give me is time."

“I don’t _have_ to,” Adam says sulkily, but it’s clear he isn’t serious.

"The only thing I'd ask of you," Nigel corrects. Adam huffs.

“Well, then.” He pulls a face, but glances at Nigel from beneath his lashes. "Okay. We can... see how it goes, I guess." Nigel tries not to grin too obnoxiously. Adam rolls his eyes anyway. “You’re so lucky you’re gorgeous.”

"I could say the same for you."

Adam laughs. “I know.” He gifts Nigel a more genuine smile this time. Nigel fancies it's occurred to him that he's made an impression on him.

"I should make myself scarce soon."

“If you must,” Adam replies. That's a change of tune from earlier, too. Perhaps Adam isn’t the only one who has made an impression.

Like he's been caught out by his silence, Adam drops his gaze and pulls a face. "I'm free on Wednesday, if you want to go for that dinner."

“All right. Text me your choice and I can make a reservation.”

"Okay." Adam nods. He worries at his lower lip a bit, not moving away. Nigel keeps his fingers soothing through dark curls. He watches the moment Adam starts to relax, and marvels at it for a long time, examining the sweep of lashes from his drooping eyes. He’s stupidly pretty. Maybe he could stay a while longer. Maybe he could stay indefinitely. Darko would manage with the others. It's so tempting. Darko might legitimately murder him, though.

He puts off the inevitable for as long as he feasibly can. Eventually he puts himself back together and slips his phone into his pocket. "I better go, darling."

“Have a good night at work, Nigel,” Adam smiles sunnily. He walks him to the door when Nigel has gathered his things, hovering for a second.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss then, Princess?”

Adam gives him a look, before folding him up in his arms and tipping their mouths together. It’s slow and lazy and exactly what he needs. Adam's tongue finds his in smooth swipes, the scent of him heady with sweetness. He’s heavy and warm against Nigel’s chest. When he pulls away, the coldness is all too quick to rush into his place. Still, Nigel smiles and pats his cheek.

“See you soon.” He lets himself out the loft door. When he glances back, Adam is watching after him, expression clouded. He wants to dwell on it, but he can’t. He left his work phone in his car and God knows what he might find waiting for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Adam wakes late to the buzz of his phone, and it takes him a moment to rouse himself before he looks at the text. Nigel. He'd texted the night before with the name of a restaurant he's been meaning to go back to, and never heard back.

Nigel's response is as brief as expected: _Fine. Leave your underwear at home. x_

__It makes Adam snort a little.

_What did my underwear ever do to you?_ he responds.

_My mother was strangled with a bra, it's personal. x_

Adam can see the one on his radiator from the corner of his eye. He'd forgotten it was there until Nigel had pointed it out the other day. He doesn't know who it belongs to, but it amuses him that Nigel was so irritated by it.

_I'll be sure not to wear one._

That makes him idle on Nigel's attachment to his masculinity. He wonders what he makes of Adam's distinct lack of attachment to his own: he's had plenty of bras of his own, at university when queerness and 'social experiments' went hand in hand.

Adam doesn't know anything about Nigel's life - because he refuses to discuss it, he reminds himself bitterly - but it's hard not to belabour it a bit in his own mind, working it like a sore tooth. The wife is a lingering concern, too- the amount he mentions her. Obviously a fairly recent thing, obviously still raw.

Dropping his phone beside him, Adam lets himself flop back into his duvet. This is such a terrible idea. His phone buzzes again after a minute and he looks at it.

_Maybe positive association will help me resolve the trauma. x_

Adam groans. Why isn't this guy just a dumb, gorgeous hunk? Adam could screw him half a dozen times, enjoy it thoroughly, and move on. As it is, he's only one of those things: utterly gorgeous. Not anything so gauche as 'a hunk': his body is more aligned with how Adam imagines a hit man. And certainly not fucking dumb. Two languages that he knows of, a shady business operating within the brackets of the _noveau riche_. A dozen other untold secrets.

_I'll be your positive association if you'll be my positive reinforcement,_ he sends back, knowing it's primarily to amuse himself.

_And what will I be positively reinforcing? Pleasantness? x_

A fair shot. _Whatever you'd like to reward me for, darling. Your call._

_I'll consider it. x_

Adam smirks a bit. He imagines Nigel is glad he's got a phone between himself and Adam, so he can pretend to have some chill. He wouldn't manage otherwise, Adam knows.

_Don't take too long._

Nigel's impatience is contagious, apparently. His next reply makes Adam smile.

_Looking forward to seeing you later. x_

Very diplomatic.

_I'm looking forward to working on your positive association._ He has so many naughty ideas forming.

_I'll just bet you are,_ Nigel replies. And then that innocuous x again.

Adam puts the phone down. He needs to actually do some work today, and he won't do any if he gets into this with Nigel. There will be enough to get into tonight.

He gets out of bed and hauls himself into the shower. He has to go out later. He's got an interviewee to take for lunch.

He can't help being preoccupied, and he doesn't quite like it. Even so, it goes well, and wraps up soon enough for him to go home and sober up. He's been a bit out of his senses both other times he's seen Nigel, and he thinks it might be helpful. That, and he'd like to actually pay attention to him for tonight- to assuage some of the uncertainty about him. Adam may be wrong in many ways, but he's always trusted his instincts.

He takes another shower and lays out clothing with Nigel firmly in mind. After all the bohemian comments the other day, he plays up that aspect. Scarf, patterned shirt, jacket... and a surprise. He towels his hair off roughly. Considers cologne. Opts instead for perfume, just to keep it thematic. Finally, he sweeps out of his apartment, checking his phone just in case.

_Meet you at the bar? x_ Nigel asks.

_If you have a glass of wine waiting for me._

He's in the taxi before the reply comes through. _You wouldn't prefer champagne? x_

_I do if it's good champagne_ , Adam types, smiling at his screen.

_Little shit. x_ is the only reply he gets. Adam bites his lip and wonders what he'll show up to.

When he arrives- fashionably late thanks to London traffic- he has to hang back for a moment while a server takes his coat just to look at Nigel. He's sleek and polished in a dark suit, unsmoked cigarette tucked behind his ear. A gold chain glints at his throat, and he's studying his glass, not the room. He's breath-taking.

When he looks up and sees Adam, his expression is hooded and intense. He stands when Adam goes to him, expression considering.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Hello yourself," Adam leans in to kiss his cheek softly. Nigel touches his sleeve, fingers skimming under his cuff to cover his pulse. He doesn't say anything about it, but he doesn't let go either.

"Our table is ready whenever we are- I thought we could have a drink first." He turns to the bar, picking up a champagne saucer that he hands to Adam before retrieving his own glass- all the while unwilling to let go of him apparently.

"Of course," Adam says lazily. He takes a sip of his drink and hums. That is not only good champagne, but exceptionally good. Nigel is watching for his reaction, and seems to stifle a smile. "Not bad," Adam says, hitching himself neatly onto a stool.

"Only the best for you, Princess." Nigel picks at the cigarette behind his ear like he'd dearly like to light it. He refrains. "Tell me about your day. Break any hearts?"

"Not that I know of, unless my interview subject was harbouring fantasies."

"My experience suggests that's undoubtedly the case."

"Oh?" Adam says pertly.

"It's your turn to make pleasant conversation, darling."

"Would you like to tell me about your day, _darling_?" Adam replies.

"I met a few new clients, ran through some business plans with my partner... the usual tedium."

"Private security is a booming business, it seems."

"It's certainly taking off." Nigel gives him a sharp-toothed smile.

"You'd make me feel secure," Adam lowers his lashes flirtatiously.

"You'd like that, would you?" Nigel touches his knee under the bar with a bare smile. "A guard dog."

"Sometimes I feel like I need one."

Nigel's eyes go soft. His thumb rubs against Adam's inseam. "I'd come if you wanted me to."

"Sincerity again? Nigel, I'm touched." He sips his champagne.

He seems undeterred by the rejoinder, reaching out to touch Adam's flushed cheek, then letting his hand fall as he takes a sip of his own.

"I am finding that I like living in London," Nigel says then, non-committal.

"Oh yes? Why's that then?"

"Business is good, people seem to respect me, I get to spend time with interesting people..."

"Surely you don't mean me."

"I do, in fact."

"I'm flattered." He says it dryly, and Nigel looks away, lip tugged up in displeasure. It's Adam's turn to touch him. Too much acid. "You look incredible," he murmurs, hooking his chin onto his shoulder.

Nigel hums, recognizing that he's being soothed. "Too bad about my personality, huh?"

"I like that too."

"Could have fooled me."

"I'm terminally sarcastic," Adam tells him.

"I've heard they make pills for that sort of thing now."

"Got any?" Adam raises a brow. Nigel looks faintly amused. Adam regrets asking when he remembers his determination to stay sober. Soberish.

"Take more than a pill to take the edge off you, my darling."

"That's the way I like it," Adam says, but he does it with a sideways glance.

Nigel nods, knocking back the rest of his drink like it isn't worth more than Adam's monthly rent. "Ready to eat?"

"Yes, I'm awfully hungry." He watches Nigel gesture to a waiter, who shows them to a table that's tucked away from the main body of the restaurant. He brings the champagne. Nigel leans over to refill his glass and inhales slowly. "Something wrong?" Adam asks.

"Admiring your cologne." His eyes narrow, but there's no malice. Adam smiles and puts his chin in his hand.

"Just for you, baby."

Nigel touches his bottom lip for a moment with his thumb, a slight tug at the pink skin. He catches Adam's hand then, lifting it gently, inhaling the scent at his wrist. When his lips brush the oyster of his palm in a kiss, Adam feels heat spark in his gut.

"Are you always like this on first dates?"

"Is it a first date if we've already had sex three times?"

"Yes," Adam says firmly. "It is." Nigel drops his hand, drawing his own to his mouth and rubbing like he's frustrated. "Do you know what you'd like for dinner?" Adam asks politely.

Nigel looks at the menu like it had never occurred to him he might have to eat food. "Have you been here before?" he asks.

"Yes, a couple of times."

"Any suggestions?"

"The linguine is good." Adam watches him. "Or the pork." Nigel nods and goes back to the menu, mumbling under his breath in another language. "What was that, darling?" Adam nudges him with his foot.

"Nothing, just thinking about choices." He glances out of the window at a taxi. Adam wonders if he's thinking how appealing it looks. Then he reaches over to touch Adam's wrist again. He can't understand why he would- but it's humbling, in its way. Adam sighs softly at himself.

"I'm ordering the pork," he says. "Share a starter?"

"All right."

They do. Nigel talks about Romania, his childhood- lots of words but again, no real information. Even so he's charming, flirting gently with the waitress who brings their mains, ordering another bottle of champagne. He asks Adam plenty of questions, too. Where he grew up, if he has siblings, what his favourite things are. All perfectly innocent first-date questions. He doesn't touch Adam again except a few taps to his hand.

"I can't believe you went to fucking Cambridge," Nigel muses, poking his dinner around.

"Someone has to," Adam says, amused.

"Absolutely. How much trouble did you get into while you were there?"

"Oh, loads. Anything I could do, really."

"What was the worst?"

"That I did, or that I was caught doing?" Adam smirks.

"That you did."

"We spent one term breaking in to a professor's office, stealing or rearranging his possessions and altering his lecture notes. Then putting most of it back once he'd noticed. Drove him quite mad."

"You little prick," Nigel chuckles. He sets his knife and fork down and finally tongues his cigarette. "Excuse me a moment."

"Sure," Adam says, not offering to come with him. He wants the opportunity to watch him out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, shrugging on his coat against the early winter chill and accepting a light from the doorman. He's so graceful, it makes him a pleasure to watch. There's something else to him though: a steeliness in his gait; the way he watches people moving past on the pavement like he's casing a joint. He's a dangerous person and Adam isn't being nearly as careful about that as he should. He's entirely transfixed by it, he knows. Somehow he's sure that Nigel won't hurt him: garden-variety domestic violence doesn't strike Adam as his racket. That's curiosity enough to keep him interested.

He watches him finish his smoke and come back inside, gaze arrowing back to Adam as soon as he's in the room.

"How do you feel about dessert?" he asks, sitting down and rearranging the set of his shoulders like he's shrugging off a weight.

Adam is largely indifferent unless dessert is served in a glass.

"Like I'd like to watch you eat it."

Nigel raises his fine eyebrows. "That sounds like it might work better in a private setting."

Adam touches his foot to the side of Nigel's calf. "No, it'll work fine right here."

That gets him the flash of displeasure again. He tilts his head in thought, then simply pours Adam another drink. He signals for the waitress and orders a creme brûlée and an espresso. "I've got work later," he tells Adam, by way of explanation apparently.

Adam finds himself disappointed; he'd been sure they'd find their way back to one of their places. Perhaps if he'd been a little nicer, he supposes, Nigel would be more inclined to make him time. He smiles gamely anyway.

"All right. No problem."

Nigel crooks him a smile. "Tell me something else you think I'd like to know," he says.

"Your text made me smile this morning."

"Good," Nigel replies. "Makes a change."

"You don't think you make me smile?"

"I'm not sure what I make you do, Adam."

This isn't the Nigel from the night they met. This is the one who'd found his flat, then nearly left. Adam isn't sure which he likes more. It might be both, which makes it hard to decide what buttons to push.

"Well, I wore ladies' underwear for you, so you decide what you make me do."

That gets his attention in a satisfying manner. "Ladies' underwear."

"You told me not to wear mine."

"Technically it is still yours, unless someone left it at your flat, darling." Adam shoots him a grin, eyebrows raising. Nigel's expression clarifies. "You are shameless, aren't you?"

"I have found shame to be one of those things people use to subdue one another. I don't care for the inauthentic." Adam sips his drink, watching Nigel think about it. He's chewing at the inside of his mouth.

"Smart boy, aren't you?"

"Smarter than most."

"I don't doubt it."

Adam shrugs. "Question is, what are you doing to do about it?"

The waitress delivers his dessert before he can answer. Adam watches him sip his coffee slowly, tongue swiping his upper lip as he lowers the cup. He eats the creme brûlée slowly too, seeming to savour it, and he doesn't answer until he's finished.

"Don't suppose they have a posh bathroom at this posh restaurant?" he says, expression not holding much hope.

Adam smiles softly. "Too posh for what you have in mind."

Nigel thinks for another moment. "Come to the party with me."

Adam flicks his hair. "Blow the party off, take me home instead."

He thinks for a minute that Nigel is going to agree. He certainly looks tempted.

"I can't, Princess."

Adam shrugs one shoulder up delicately. "All right."

"Come with me," Nigel repeats. "I won't let you get bored."

Adam bites his lip. Nigel leans forward, nudging their knees under the table. He trails his fingers over Adam's palm and speaks soft and low.

"The choice is yours, but if I have my say, I will get an opportunity to suck that gorgeous cock of yours and ruin your fancy knickers in the process."

Adam knows the shiver that runs through him is fully visible. "That sounds promising."

"So say yes."

"Fine, but if I'm just stood in the corner..."

"I'll introduce you to some people."

Adam wants to continue his line of petulant questioning, but Nigel looks at his watch and gestures to a server for the bill. First date, he reminds himself. It could be ending here. He knows himself though. He doesn't want it to end.

He watches Nigel hand over a card without looking at the folder. He tucks a few bills into the wallet for a tip, too, then stands and offers Adam a hand up. This time, he keeps him close. There's a sleek black car waiting for them outside the restaurant, windows smoked, and the driver seat occupied. Nigel guides him to it with an arm around his waist.

Adam tries not to think about how much Nigel's "security company" must be fronting him if he's got a personal driver. He's not very successful.

"Do you own this security business, then?"

Nigel pulls a cigarette out of his pack.

"Half." He gives Adam a look, and then changes the subject. "If you need to go at any point and I'm not able to, this car will be waiting outside, okay?"

"All right, Nigel, thanks" He nudges him with his knee. Nigel tucks his hand against his inseam. Adam can feel it through his jeans, heating the denim. "For the record," he says tartly, "if you don't come home with me, I'm going to be somewhat perturbed."

"Noted," Nigel murmurs. He smiles then, something mean about the angle of his mouth. Adam kisses him anyway.

It's amazing how quickly it goes dirty. Amazing how good it feels to be kissing him again, too. His hands cups the back of Adam's neck. He still tastes like coffee and burnt sugar. He controls the kiss this time; perhaps the confidence comes from Adam saying yes to the party. The knowledge of it sits heavy in Adam's stomach, lighting him with heat. He likes getting his way, sure. But he also likes the idea of Nigel taking what he wants.

Right now, he wants to get his hand down the side of Adam's jeans and touch the lace on his hips. He's not hiding it in the least. As soon as he fits his hand into his waistband, he pauses, fingers mapping the scratch of the lace. "You weren't lying."

"Why would I be lying?" Adam laughs. He lets Nigel peer at the fabric, pale blue, and feels immense satisfaction at the noise he makes.

"Tell me," Nigel says, accent going slightly thicker, "is this car also off limits for what I have in mind?"

"I'm not spending all night with wet knickers," Adam murmurs.

"You could spend them with none," Nigel rumbles. That makes Adam's breath come up a little short- he knows exactly where they'd end up.

"Behave, Nigel," he murmurs.

"I don't want to." Nigel bites his ear gently, kissing down the side of his throat. "I'd do anything you wanted, right now."

"You'll do anything I want later, too," Adam tells him throatily.

He feels Nigel sag, his hands squeezing at Adam gently. "It's a good job you're so fucking pretty, Adam."

"Isn't it?" Adam relents enough to lean in and mouth at his jaw. He smiles at the rough, frustrated noise Nigel makes in his throat. He refuses to put his hands on Nigel, mostly because he's not sure his own self-control is that great. He's definitely hard under all the blue lace, and that's just from Nigel's searching fingertips.

Wrenching himself away like he's fighting a magnetic pull, Nigel scoots back across the seat, taking out his cigarettes with a sigh. Adam holds out his hand for one. He watches Nigel put two between his lips and light both, mouth streaming smoke. It shouldn't be sexy, but it is. He hands it over with a slow smile. Adam will be damned if he can't at least imagine the taste of Nigel's lips on the paper.

He savours it for the duration of the drive, until they arrive, and Nigel has to go shake hands and intimidate people for a while. True to his word, he introduces Adam to a cloud of guests and sets him up with a tab at the bar first, which is simultaneously sweet and entirely too trusting. Adam orders another bottle of champagne and entertains himself with idle chatter for a while. If Nigel is good to him, he might ask for a second glass next time he comes around to check on him. For now, he smokes and watches the people glide by and works his way through his drink.

Several people stop to talk to him, including the bartender, but he mostly just watches the partygoers. It's a group of mostly men tonight, ornamented by expensive suits and more expensive women. Stockbrokers and the like, if he had to guess. Unsurprisingly, drugs seem to be commonplace, along with the occasional loud disagreement that is immediately broken up with a warning glance from a nearby Romanian.

After a while, another man walks over and talks quietly to the first. Adam thinks he's Darko, Nigel's partner. He's more intimidating than Nigel, visually speaking at least. Though Adam wonders if Nigel would look that mean if Adam hadn't seen him flirting (or drunk, or smiling, or taking Adam's dick). He'd certainly looked it when he showed up at Adam's house.

When the man sees him watching, Adam keeps eye contact. He doesn't let it waver, even when Darko approaches him. Part of him is thrilled about this. The little Nigel will tell him about his past features this man prominently.

When Darko addresses him, his accent is much thicker than Nigel's.

"So, you're Adam Towers."

"I'm afraid I don't know your full name," Adam says delicately. " _Darko_."

"You know what you need to." He gives Adam a thin smile, leaning on the bar and ordering a coke. He looks around, and Adam follows his gaze to Nigel. Darko looks back at him and laughs. "You must have a magical dick, my friend."

"What makes you say that?"

" _That_ ," Darko nods toward where Nigel stands, having stern words with a beefy guest. "It hasn't turned to a beating yet."

More shaken than he wants to admit, Adam murmurs, "He's trying to convince me he's not terrifying, I think."

Darko eyes him. "Is it working?"

Adam keeps watching Nigel; sees his teeth bared with whatever words he's saying. "Not as such."

"Maybe you're smarter than I thought."

"I've heard that before." He glances back at Darko. "Of course, there's no way to tell if it's an indication of the intelligence of the people who say it, or if I somehow just look stupid."

Darko smiles a bit. "Well, if you were half as smart as you think you are, you wouldn't be here at all."

"Are you warning me off?" Adam says, annoyed but also, somewhat perversely, delighted.

"More just warning you."

"How sweet."

Darko glances again, and Adam noticed Nigel has spotted them talking. He wonders if that's a mistake on Darko's part. Whether it is or not, he's surprised when Darko leans in again.

"Here's another warning: if you fuck him up, I will find you."

"Apparently I'm not as hard to find as I thought I was," Adam sighs, ignoring the clench in his belly.

"No, you're not. Bear that in mind, pretty." Darko gives him a brief, mirthless smile, and ducks away as Nigel crosses the room. Adam makes sure a smile wreaths his own face as Nigel steps into Darko's previous spot. His hand slips to Adam's waist, distinctly non-casual.

"Hello, darling."

"Nigel," Adam says brightly. "You remembered I'm here!"

"I never forgot. I'm sorry, are you bored?"

"Not _now._ "

Nigel chuckles, turning his face into his neck and kissing gently.

"I introduced you to some people."

"They were boring."

"You could mingle, find someone you like more."

"In this crowd? Likely to get beat up, aren't I?"

"Only if you shoot off that pretty mouth of yours."

"You are kissing my neck in front of the entire bar, you know."

Nigel laughs. "That's helping. They know who I am."

"Jesus, it gets worse."

"Mm, I can make it get better."

Adam smiles at him meaningfully. "I'm listening."

"Give me fifteen more minutes, and then I can take you home."

"Darling, that's all I've wanted to hear from you all night." He rewards him for it with a kiss, but one that's light and quick. "I'm starting a timer."

"I'll finish up." Nigel smirks and tears himself away. Thank Christ.

Adam isn't bored now he's been threatened, and it's not the stockbrokers he's concerned about. He watches Darko's track around the room almost as much as Nigel's, jittering a bit as time goes on. Finally, Nigel comes back, cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. He checks his watch. "How'd I do, Princess?"

"Seventeen minutes, sloppy to be honest."

Nigel chuckles, wrapping an arm around him.

"Come on, let's get you home." He takes Adam back outside to the big black car. Adam can feel the heat of his hands through his coat. He's relieved to be alone with him again. He feels their interactions are more - pure, this way. He thinks Nigel is more himself behind closed doors, though. "Mine or yours, gorgeous?" he asks Adam.

Adam thinks it over. "Yours."

Nigel nods to the driver through the partition. The car rolls into motion. Adam runs his fingers through Nigel's hair.

"Your friend Darko is an interesting chap."

Nigel groans. "No, he isn't. What did he say to you?"

"He said he would find me if I hurt you." Adam chuckles a bit.

"I apologise."

"Yeah. I'm gonna need a bit more than that."

Nigel sighs. "I'll make sure he knows that if he hurts you, I'll fucking castrate him."

"Why was he threatening me in the first place? I don't like to be threatened, Nigel."

"Darko is protective of me," Nigel replies.

"Well, I'm protective of me."

Nigel's expression goes shuttered.

"So you should be," he says quietly.

It takes Adam a second to shake off the cold shot of fear that goes through him. He reaches for Nigel's collar, pulling him in close. "And you, idiot."

"That almost sounds like an us," Nigel points out.

Adam bites his lip. Nigel keeps pushing, and he's not even sure he minds. "I'd say a first date potentially makes it an 'us' situation, wouldn't you?"

"Potentially." He gives Adam a crooked smile. His fingers find Adam's cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you. What did I say?"

Adam sighs. "I remember you saying you'd do anything I wanted, earlier."

"I will. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my name," Adam tells him.

Nigel's sharp breath against his skin is gratifying. "I'll remember it for you."

Adam kisses him; he can't stop. The champagne racing through his bloodstream only makes his impulses that much stronger. Nigel grips his waist and hauls him closer, one hand twisting into his hair as their mouths slide together. Adam's pulse thumps in his throat. He whines when Nigel palms him through his jeans gently.

"Can't get this out of my mind."

"Can't wait for you to get it into your mouth," Adam huffs.

"Now, if you like."

It's fucking tempting, but they're not that far now. "Down, boy."

Nigel sighs and nips at his lower lip.

"I thought that's what I was offering," he chuckles.

"Well, just hold on for a while longer." Adam can see the neighbourhood getting fancy around them.

Nigel relents and smokes a cigarette for the last minutes of the journey, but when they're back at his home and behind the iron gates he wastes no time in directing Adam upstairs. Adam doesn't waste time either. He practically drags Nigel out of his coat and jacket, leaving them somewhere on the landing as they stumble back into his room. Their hands bump together as they open each other's shirts.

Nigel drops down to his knees and has Adam's jeans down in seconds, jaw setting as he takes in the sight of him straining against the pale lace shorts.

"I think you might fucking kill me, Adam Towers."

Adam laughs, delighted. The sound cuts off when Nigel leans in and mouths wet over the line of his cock through the lace. Then he drags his tongue over the full length of him. Adam watches him with his heart in his throat. He looks so intent. Tilting his chin to suck slowly over the head of Adam's cock, the mesh going transparent with his spit.

Adam moans softly, touching his hair. Nigel doesn't linger, mouth following his length until he can tongue at the base and over his balls. He mumbles something in Romanian.

"Tell me," Adam pleads quietly.

"I've never seen anything like you in my life." He covers his hips with his hands, nudging his thighs apart so he can bury his mouth between his thighs. Adam could dissolve at the feeling. He sucks and kisses the soft flesh, licking along the edges of the lace, curling his tongue underneath.

Adam can only groan- and sound slightly indignant- when he turns him around against the wall and spreads him with his hands, licking over him in one obscene stripe from his perineum to the cleft of his ass. He can't feel it as much through the fabric, and it's killing him.

"Nigel," he grits, grabbing back at his hair.

"Hold still, Princess, I'm not done."

"Fucking-- get going first."

Instead, Nigel's hand wraps back around, closing over the obscene curve of his cock and squeezing. Adam squirms against his palm for friction, moaning when Nigel rooks the panties away from between his thighs with his other hand and gets his tongue into the gap. He's wet already, wet from Nigel's mouth and wet from his own arousal and more sensitive than he could have imagined. He's been aching to be touched by him, and it feels better than he remembers.

The edges of the lace bite into his hips, and Adam pushes back into Nigel's mouth. Nigel sucks over the skin of his hole gently and Adam gives an entirely unrefined moan.

"More," he pleads.

The press of Nigel's tongue follows. Adam's cock swells even more, if possible. He arches back, grateful for another tight squeeze of Nigel's hand.

Nigel surges with the tip of his tongue again. It's not enough and yet perfect all at once. Adam resigns himself to the panties staying on as long as Nigel can stand. He's grateful, then, when Nigel turns him back around and pulls them down enough to free his cock.

"Promised you a blowjob," he reasons.

"Yes," Adam's voice shakes a little. "Yes you did." Watching Nigel take him into his mouth in a single, steady slide is overwhelming. He takes him down far enough to be impressive, far enough to feel the squeeze of his throat. Adam wonders- between effusive bouts of swearing- where he found the time to get so good. Who is he blowing, this beautiful, macho Romanian of his? And can Adam kill them all?

He whines through his teeth at the pace Nigel sets, as aggressive as everything else he does. He whines again when Nigel's fingers sweep over his hole. It's so much, still not enough. He tugs Nigel's hair.

"Bed," he mutters, starting to step out of his jeans.

Nigel pulls off with an obscene noise, pushing himself to his feet. His suit pants are tented out, though he seems oblivious. Adam isn't.

"Christ, Nigel," he breathes, pulling him in to kiss the taste of himself from his mouth as they move. He strips Nigel roughly out of his clothing, fussing at it until he's physically picked up and placed on the mattress. Adam stares at Nigel as he leans across for lube. "Fucking hell, you're gorgeous."

"Says the faerie prince."

"You calling me a fucking fairy?"

"You'll take Princess but not fairy," Nigel sighs, shaking his head exaggeratedly. Sat on his knees over Adam, he himself looks like a fucking statue.

"I'm kidding, darling. Which court do you think I'd be in?"

"Do you really want to discuss this right now?" Adam sniggers and shakes his head. "Good." Nigel opens the lube and slicks his fingers, biting his bottom lip in concentration. He stretches the panties away from Adam's inner thighs again as he strokes his fingers down between his cheeks, licking a long line up his cock.

"Just take them off," Adam groans.

"No," Nigel mutters, "I like them."

His middle finger breaches Adam's body, presses in with only token resistance. Adam arches, breathing hard and spreading his thighs wide. He'd mostly insisted on fucking Nigel last time out of contrariness. This feels too amazing. Especially when he starts to suck his cock slowly in tandem with the motions of his finger.

"Christ, Nigel, please. "

That gets him a hum; a questioning glance. It's too slow, but if he says so Nigel will make him regret it.

"Just- give me more, okay? Please."

He gets another finger, which is acceptable. Nigel drives his fingers fast enough to make him groan through his teeth. That's more like it. He angles them together to stroke Adam's prostate.

"Fuck-!" Adam grabs at his shoulders, fingers cutting into the muscle.

Nigel makes an amused noise around the head of his cock. When Adam focuses his touch on his crown and rocks up, it somewhat stymies his smugness. His throat goes tight. His free hand presses on Adam's stomach, pinning him as he fucks him faster with his fingers. Adam had thought it would take longer, but a few more presses of his fingers along with the suction of his mouth takes him right to the edge.

"Nigel- wait-" Nigel doesn't wait. "Nigel!" Adam moans, gritting his teeth.

He comes before he can hold back, so hard it feels like a whip crack of sensation. His back arches, pressing him relentlessly into Nigel's hand. He's still sucking him, slick and concentrated, fingers working within until Adam's cock gives another weak pulse and he pushes him away.

"Fuck- _fuck_!" He backs up against the headboard, panting. Nigel watches, hair hanging in his eyes. "Jesus fuck. You're going to kill me."

"You told me to make you forget your name," Nigel murmurs. He leans up to kiss Adam, a slow, thorough claim on his attention. Adam melts back into the pillows. He's still tingling with sensation, idling in the haze. Nigel's fingers trail up his thigh again.

"God, you still want to fuck me, don't you?" Adam mumbles.

"I really do, Princess. Is that all right?"

It really is. Adam doesn't know what sort of state he'll be in after, but he's game to try. He nods. Nigel's lips part in a violent sort of smile.

It shouldn't be half so attractive. Adam kisses it before Nigel turns him onto his stomach. He props Adam's hips with a pillow and puts on a condom out of the drawer before spreading him.

"Still leaving the knickers on, huh?" Adam mumbles. He turns his face into the sheets and moans when Nigel's cock breaches him in answer. He'll have marks on his skin from the elastic, he knows. Possibly from Nigel's hands as well. Honestly, he relishes the thought, the same way he relishes the slick, hot friction of Nigel filling him slow.

"All right, gorgeous?"

"Yes," he breathes. "Keep going."

Nigel does, one hand gripping at Adam's bicep as he picks up a slick pace. He's nudging at Adam's prostate again, and it makes the words he wants to say fly away from his mouth. Adam clenches on reflex, stuttering when Nigel swears and buries his face against his nape.

"You are the most gorgeous fucking thing I've ever seen."

"I doubt that," Adam groans.

That earns him a nip on his shoulder. "I can't think of anyone else," Nigel says thickly. "You've taken over."

He lets his hips snap faster, and Adam feels winded by the pleasure of it, winding him up again despite having already come. He's desperately overstimulated, but desperate for more too. He arches back into his thrusts with a few weak, urgent groans.

One of Nigel's hands finds his hair, wrenching his head around to kiss him. Both of them sigh at the contact. Adam feels liquid, poured into this shape and quivering under Nigel's rough hands. The rocking of Nigel's hips grinds him down against the pillows, sensitive skin half chafed by lace and cotton. Between that and the rasp of stubble against his lips, the grip of his hands, Adam's rational mind has been displaced entirely with feeling and luxuriating in it. He makes a noise, unformed and desperate.

Nigel groans against his cheek, hips pistoning faster, getting desperate but never losing control. Adam arches up as hard as he can.

"Fuck, come in me- let me feel it-" Nigel groans again, like a hurt thing, finding his mouth. He clutches at Adam as he shakes apart. 

Adam makes a ragged, helpless noise as Nigel covers him. He's oversensitive; still arching. His entire body shivers softly.

"More?" Nigel asks, sounding amused.

"Christ, do you want to kill me?"

"In ten minutes, then."

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

Nigel does, giving a content sigh. He finally pushes away from Adam, dealing with the condom and then collapsing again. His warm weight is entirely too good. Adam rolls a bit until he's spooned up in Nigel's arms.

"All right?" he asks quietly.

Nigel makes a soft, satisfied noise. "I'm glad you fuck on first dates."

"Fucking hell, me too." Adam starts to wriggle out of the knickers finally, now thoroughly ruined. Nigel makes a sound of disappointment. Adam laughs. "It's your own fault, darling."

"I'll buy you some more."

If Adam was even capable of a shiver right now, he would. "Does that make you my sugar daddy?"

"Fucking hell, Adam," Nigel laughs.

"Not actually an answer." Adam laughs too, reaching lazily for the duvet piled at their feet.

"I'm fully aware you don't need anyone to provide for you. Do you want me to be your sugar daddy?"

"You seem like you'd enjoy it so much. Depriving you would just be cruel," Adam drawls, unserious.

"Darling, you love being cruel."

Adam pauses, thinking it over. "Well."

Nigel pinches him gently. "Don't deny it."

"No, I won't," Adam laughs.

Nigel smothers a few kisses against his neck, soft and adoring. Adam luxuriates in the feeling. This is what he likes best about Nigel, he thinks. He doesn't have to pretend anything. Nigel seems to like him even though he's a prick. That's refreshing enough that the feeling is mutual.

The feeling is definitely mutual. "I like this, Nigel," he murmurs.

Nigel makes a quiet noise of agreement. "Good. Staying over?"

"Yeah, all right."

Nigel nuzzles his nape. "Leaving before I wake up again?"

"No point, is there? You know where I live now."

He thinks he hears a sigh. "When you're done with me, Adam, just tell me, yeah?"

Adam sits up and looks at him. "Hey, I was joking."

Nigel rolls onto his back and quirks a pale brow at him. "Were you?"

Adam sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay- this is clearly still bothering you, so- let's talk about it."

Nigel groans, draping his arm over his eyes. "Light me a cigarette first." When he does, he watches Nigel shuffle himself up against the pillows and flick his hair from his eyes. "Go on, gorgeous. I'm all ears."

"I was hoping you'd talk without me prodding."

"You're the one who wants to talk. You go first."

"When I left...you felt rejected. You had quite an emotional response."

Nigel sets his jaw, turning his face into his hand for a minute like his eyes ache.

"I had been under the impression you'd enjoyed the evening. I probably would have understood if it had been a flop."

"I told you," Adam says. "It was great, and I knew, from experience, that I'd ruin it eventually." He pauses, chewing his lip. "And- I didn't want it to change and be awful and awkward the next day- and Jesus, I didn't think you'd want to see me again."

"I had planned on making you breakfast," Nigel says.

"I'm sorry," Adam mumbles. "I'm sorry." He really is. Nigel frowns and reaches up to him.

"Did you think it would be that bad? That I'd see who you really were when I was sober?"

"Everyone does eventually."

"Fucking hell, Adam."

Adam crosses his arms. "What."

Nigel gets a grip on his nape and pulls him down. "I'm not a fucking therapist, gorgeous. But that seems a bit hasty" He noses at him closely. "I promise you, flower, you won't be more of a bastard than I am."

"Is that so, Nigel?"

"I'm afraid so. Though if you did want to walk out, that would be a valid reason."

"Well...noted. But neither of us are entirely wasted right now, right?"

"I am disappointingly sober," Nigel says. He smiles up at Adam. "I believe you've had your fair share of champagne tonight, should I be worried my charms will wear off?"

"Darling, I didn't scream and taser you when you showed up at my house. I think it's safe to say you've charmed me sober as well as drunk."

"The world's smallest pocketknife, and now a taser as well," Nigel shakes his head. "I despair."

"Well, I've got a baseball bat as well."

Nigel drops an arm over his face and groans. "We need to get you a piece."

"That sounds...illegal," Adam says.

"So is carrying a knife or a taser with the intention to use it."

Adam shrugs. "Better than dying I guess."

"Yeah, well so's a gun." Nigel shrugs it off with a hand gesture- _enough about that now_ \- and hauls him back down against him. "Adam Towers, will you do me the honour of staying for breakfast this time?"

"Yes, I will," Adam says softly. "Even if you can't cook at all."

"It's cute that you think I'm going to try."

"Housekeeper or takeaway?" Adam asks, vaguely soothed by evidence of imperfection.

"I think my housekeeper would poison me if she got the opportunity. I thought I'd go get something."

Adam yawns.

"Okay." He eases into place against Nigel's side, turning his face into his neck. He feels solid and safe, and Adam still doesn't know how to reconcile that with the growing suspicion that he's dangerous- nor with his own fear.


	4. Chapter 4

When he wakes, Adam is still here- and he seems inclined to make it a habit, because Nigel finds him that way several more times over the next few weeks. Curled into his body, serenely asleep- brewing a hangover, usually. He's so beautiful, truly breath-taking in a way Nigel hasn't experienced for so, so long. He hates the way it's gripped him so suddenly.

He sighs now at the thought, leaving Adam in bed like he often does to take a piss and wash his face and pull on some jeans to go get some breakfast. As always, he makes sure to leave a note.

On his return, Adam is sat in the ugly chair they had shared their first night, folded up in Nigel's robe. He's managed to make coffee, and he's sipping from one of Nigel's oversized mugs, looking vaguely - well, hung over. But gorgeous.

"How do you feel, darling?" Nigel asks, giving him a smile as he slings his jacket onto a chair.

"Alive."

"That all?" He rattles into the kitchen for plates, pouring himself some coffee.

"At the moment. Why are you so awake?" Adam looks so disgruntled that Nigel has to stifle a smile. He's finding that Adam is not a morning person. It's more charming than he'd imagined.

"I was awake, and I know that you like breakfast." He smiles, tilting his head. Adam is gorgeous and rumpled and Nigel wants badly to kneel in front of him and taste as much of his skin as he's permitted. He holds back: he'll let Adam make the first move.

"Okay," Adam says faintly, "I could eat."

"It's ready whenever."

"Bring it me?" His smile is a little wicked. Nigel tuts and does as he asks.

"Your breakfast, Princess."

"Thank you." Adam pats the seat beside him. Nigel goes gratefully. He loves the sight of Adam in his robe. Even more the way he lets his bare knee bump against Nigel's gently while they eat. He's definitely more quiet than usual.

"All right?" Nigel asks him.

"Yeah," he murmurs, touching his cheek to Nigel's shoulder for a moment.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, darling."

Nigel waits, trying his best to be patient. He can be. Keeping his hands to himself is harder. He gets the impression Adam needs time to order his thoughts.

"Need an aspirin, gorgeous?" he asks casually.

"I'm okay. I'll be fine when I've eaten."

Nigel nods and touches his shoulder. Adam gives him a soft smile. Everything is all right, he thinks. He's regularly unpleasant first thing. Nigel remembers that first morning he'd spent here, walking around with his eyes half-closed and his lip curled. It had been entertaining then, too.

"What're your plans for today?" Nigel asks.

"Research."

"On anything in particular?"

"New art exhibitions going on downtown. I need to visit them and then research the artists for profiles. My friend is actually one of the gallery curators, she’s set me up a meeting this afternoon with an old contact of mine."

”I didn’t know you had any friends, darling.”

Adam gives him a stinging side-eye. “We met at a survivors group- my psychiatrist suggested it after my attack.”

_Well fucking done Nigel_ , he thinks to himself. “Fucking hell. Walked into that, didn’t I?”

Adam just nudges their shoulders together: he’s forgiven.

“Anyway, it’s just a normal exhibition review this morning and then meeting her this afternoon.”

Nigel hums, considering. "Sounds fun."

"Probably," Adam says relatively cheerfully. "Artists like me."

"I can't imagine why."

Adam laughs and pinches him. "Want to come with?"

"Wouldn't that be. I don't know, darling...distracting?"

Adam shrugs. "Only if you can't behave yourself, I suppose."

"I can, if I want to." Nigel rolls his eyes. That gets him the arch of Adam's brow and the perfect, artless jut of his chin.

"Well then, it's up to you."

"You _want_ to see if I can behave."

"I just want to see you surrounded by art, darling."

Nigel considers the impact on his carpet and his dishes if he pounces right now. But no, Adam wants to see if he can _behave_. What a little shit, honestly. All the times he's been in this exact chair asking Nigel to fuck his eyes crossed, and now he's moving the goal posts. Thankfully, Nigel is adaptable.

"Your wish is my command."

"I'll want to go home and clean up first, I suppose. "

"I'll take you?"

Adam shrugs. "Sure."

"All right." Nigel sets his breakfast down, half eaten, and lights a cigarette: his preferred start to the day. He watches Adam through the curl of smoke. He's still picking delicately at his own. Nigel still wants to touch him, but the nicotine helps.

"Going to take a shower with me?" he asks Nigel, casually.

"Of course," Nigel replies, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Adam reaches to touch his cheek, finally. "Going to let me blow you in the shower?" he rephrases.

Nigel bites his lip. "It would be cruel to deny you."

"Very." Adam smirks. He noses into Nigel's throat slowly, setting his own plate aside. "I can still feel you from last night."

Nigel hums. "I'm not sad about that."

"Neither am I, darling." Adam sighs. He kisses down the line of Nigel's tattoo. Nigel lets his fingers tangle gently into Adam's hair.

"Should we take this to the shower?" he says hopefully.

"Let's." Adam disengages and heads upstairs, Nigel close behind. He loves how Adam moves confidently through his space now. He's lost his nervousness for the time being, stripping his robe off, dropping it on the floor as he turns on the water. Nigel enjoys the view. "Come on then," Adam grins at him.

"I have a few more layers than you," Nigel laughs.

Adam turns immediately to help him, tugging the jumper off over his head and sighing at the sight of his bared chest. "This is so hot, darling." He runs a hand over Nigel's chest.

"What, my chest?" He chuckles.

"Your entire body is just...it really ought to be illegal."

"A lot of me ought to be illegal."

"More than your body?" Adam looks a bit lost. Nigel moves in to distract him.

"Just the things you make it feel, angel." He kisses him slowly, and Adam doesn't shy away. Nigel unbuttons his own jeans, slipping them off his hips. He hadn't bothered with underwear this morning. Adam looks down and hums in agreement.

"Well, now, that is much better."

"Get in the shower, Princess." Adam looks vaguely offended to be ordered anywhere. It makes Nigel smile. "I'll make it worth your while."

Adam raises a brow at him and steps under the spray. "Proceed."

Nigel follows him in, crowding him gently against the tile to kiss him slow. From the way Adam melts into it, he considers it well worth his while. He's so easy to devour like this, all his skin on show. Nigel laces his fingers through his wet curls and keeps their mouths tight. Adam rocks against him slowly, their bodies sliding together. The water is steaming hot around them, wreathing them in tendrils. When Nigel breaks the kiss to smear more into Adam's throat, he hears a shaky moan bleed out.

"You want me, gorgeous?" he murmurs.

"God, yes." Adam nods.

"Good." He nips at his throat. Adam sets a hand on his chest to push him gently back; then he folds to his knees. Nigel watches him with heat igniting beneath his ribs. He looks so lovely.

He kisses Nigel's hips slowly. His mouth is hot and pink and covering all of Nigel's skin with fire. He's gentle when he bites him, hip and then inner thigh. But he still bites him, and Nigel groans with the perfection of it.

Adam's tongue then, trailing heat up the underside of his rising cock. It presses firmly, taking the taste and the friction more than giving. Nigel watches him with his eyes heavy lidded, breaths coming slow and deep. He allows himself to be stroked, tasted, teased until his breath seizes.

"Adam," he sighs, appealing to him with an arch of his hips. When the heat of Adam's mouth finally surrounds him, he has to grit his teeth. "Fuck, perfect," he rumbles, touching over Adam's hair.

Adam takes him relentlessly deep, swallowing around his shaft.

It takes all Nigel's restraint not to buck forward into wet heat. He's already nestled against the back of Adam's throat.

"Fucking hell, Adam," he murmurs. It's less enthusiasm than it is hunger, and it claws deep inside Nigel where he's vulnerable to that kind of attack. Adam is taking his time with him, secure in the knowledge that Nigel won't ask for anything he isn't willing to give. It's the only kind of torture Nigel has ever enjoyed. He closes his eyes and braces his feet, hands soothing through Adam's curls.

It's not long, between Adam's squeezing throat and stroking tongue, before he's gasping. He chokes out Adam's name. The smug, heated cut of Adam's eyes is the only response he gets. So that's the only further warning he gives. He comes with a shuddering groan, helpless to do anything but as Adam works it out of him. He pulls back far enough to soothe with his tongue, until Nigel moans softly in protest.

"Your fucking mouth," he groans, rubbing his eyes to clear them of sparks.

"What about it?" Adam replies, looking up at him.

Nigel chuckles a bit. "It's the most agreeable part of you."

"There may be a few others." Adam pushes himself to his feet. Nigel immediately folds him in his arms, kissing him to stretch the moment of easy, comfortable warmth between them. Adam's cock presses against his thigh where he's still sensitive, a hard weight in contrast with the slide of the water.

Nigel takes him in hand and hums. "What do you want me to do with this, darling?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can think of a few things."

"Tell me," Nigel nips his jaw.

"Pretend it's you," Adam says, turning in his arms to press his back into Nigel's chest. "Pretend you're here in your shower and you're thinking of me."

"Jesus," Nigel kisses his jaw and turns him around, pulling him flush against his body and wrapping a hand around him. "All right."

He's rough, because he'd be rough with himself. He'd be desperate. Long, fast swipes and then concentrated, rhythmic strokes at the head. Adam's body isn't his body, so he doesn't know how it feels. But this is what Adam wants. His head tipping back against his shoulder and his hands in his hair tells him. His soft, urgent moans. Nigel whispers in his ear, hot breath through the fall of water.

"I talk to you, in my head. Imagine it's you. Stroking me off on your knees with your fucking mouth open like you can't wait to taste it."

"Fuck, yeah? You think about just coming all over my mouth?"

"Darling, I think about fucking everything. Think about you losing your snotty little accent while I fuck you."

He strokes a fraction faster. Adam moans softly, the tension in his spine coiling.

"Yeah? What do you imagine saying to me?"

Nigel takes a breath, brushing his lips against Adam's ear. "Adam, you feel so good. I need you so fucking much."

"Fuck," Adam arches back against him, "oh, fuck."

The words come easily; they've been playing on a loop in his head for days. "Make me come, Adam. Mess me up."

He does, with a stuttered gasp and a full-body shudder, his hands wrenching on Nigel's hair. "God, Nigel," he groans. "Is that really what you feel?"

"When I'm thinking about you? Always."

He leans heavily, and Nigel accepts the weight with gentle hands. They stay like that for a long while under the spray. Eventually, Adam sighs. "You really like me, don't you, Nigel?"

"Yes, I fucking do," Nigel says simply.

Adam sighs again. "God," he repeats softly.

Nigel noses at him gently. He reaches for soap and starts gently making circles on his skin. That makes him come back to life, humming in satisfaction and turning in his arms to return the favour. It's as rewarding as other things involving him are frustrating.

They finish up and get out of the shower. Adam puts on last night's suit with a distinct pout. Nigel kisses it off him.

"Let's get you home, darling." He checks to see if the car service has arrived yet. It's idling outside the gates, gleaming in the sun. "Ready?" He asks Adam.

They head out to the car, Nigel fobbing the gates shut behind them, tucking the keys away. Inside, the heat is on, but Adam still leans into him. Nigel plays with his hair and watches the city go by.

At the flat, Adam makes them both more coffee before he gets changed- they have time. Nigel carries his mug around, and smokes, and pokes around his bookshelves.

"What're you looking for?" Adam asks, hiking his jeans up.

"I'm just looking, gorgeous." He takes out a book with Adam's name on the spine- a small print, soft cover, probably independent. He examines the back. The picture is ridiculous. He bites the inside of his cheek so he won't smile. "Darling, you look about fifteen on this."

"I wasn't much older than that."

"It's absolutely precious."

"It's bad poetry, too, but I've grown since then." Adam gives him an eyebrow, buckling his belt and starting on his shirt.

"I imagine you have." Nigel cracks the book and leans against the bookcase to read a few pages.

"No, don't do that," Adam laughs.

"It's okay, I can't understand half of it," Nigel lies, scanning a few pages. It's as dramatic as Nigel would have expected. There's something jejune in it; something easier than the Adam he sees now. This Adam is wearing something darker like a tight jacket. He wears it well.

Sensing that he's being inspected, Adam steps closer. Nigel closes the book, holding it against his chest as he reaches out for Adam.

"Have I already told you I like your place?"

"I figured by the way we keep ending up at it." Adam leans up to kiss him. It feels like winning some kind of prize.

He loops a gentle arm around Adam's waist. He's surprised when the gesture is returned, Adam leaning into his chest, nosing under his jaw.

"So, you're going to be my bodyguard today, are you Nigel?"

"Yes, I'll be keeping a very close eye on it."

Adam hums. "Good."

Nigel kisses his cheek. "Ready to go?"

"Just need to grab my bag."

"All right."

He lets him go. They're on their way inside five minutes, and at the gallery, Adam hesitates before opening the door.

"Want me to pretend for real?" Nigel asks, serious. He can see in Adam's face that it piques his sense of drama.

"I'll look mad. I'm not famous."

"Eccentricity is a trait of most writers, no?"

Adam laughs. "Point."

Nigel grins. He puts on a pair of shades, then gets out of the car, moving around to Adam's door to open it for him.

"Let me know how else I can service you later, sir," he murmurs in his ear. He sees Adam's ears turn pink, but he just brushes himself down.

"We'll see about that."

He strolls to the gallery door, letting Nigel shadow him.

It's easy to fall into it; to watch his interactions and those around him and keep his hands behind his back and his distance respectable. It's probably for the best; what conversation he can pick up is almost unbearably pretentious. Adam is a perfect shit talker for the entire event.

Most of the art is not to Nigel's taste, but he is drawn to one or two pieces. Photographs, black and white and brooding. He wonders if Adam would be mortified if he bought him one. He makes a note of the artist's name and tucks one of the gallery's cards in his breast pocket. He'd like to see him mortified, he thinks. Perhaps he could arrange to have it delivered when they were both at the apartment.

He smiles, then glances at Adam to check on his proximity. Unfortunately, he seems to have been cornered by another patron. Nigel tilts his head and considers intervening- purely to make a show of his presence, he knows. He heads that direction. Slowly. When the patron puts a hand on Adam's shoulder, Nigel touches his elbow from behind.

"Mr. Towers, is this man bothering you?" He looks over the top of his shades at Adam.

Adam looks at the man, and gives him a smile, not quite embarrassed, more _oh you know how it is_.

"No thank you, Nigel, Mr. Clark and I are associates." His face when he glances at Nigel is neutral, but his eyes are amused.

"Very good, sir." Nigel murmurs, receding. He stays closer this time. Still musing on mortifying Adam. He's not sure just one thing would be sufficient- he is unrelentingly shameless. So, however, is Nigel.

He hovers until he sees Adam starting to tire. Then he approaches again, stands just too close for politeness. "Sir."

"Yes, Nigel?"

"Your next appointment, sir...."

"Very good, Nigel." Adam nods. He says something charming to whoever he's currently talking to and withdraws, Nigel following.

"All right?" Nigel asks.

"Yes, thank you," Adam says idly. "Have you called for my car?"

"It's waiting outside."

"You're so efficient, Nigel."

"Thank you, sir."

Adam is good at this. Nigel is getting all sorts of bad ideas. He could be good at it too, for the right motivation. He thinks Adam would love to provide that too.

He looks around as he opens the door for Adam. This is a nice neighbourhood; nothing to worry about here. When he ducks in the car, he lets their knees touch.

"How'd it go?" he asks innocently.

Adam huffs softly. "You gave poor Charles a heart attack." He sounds amused.

"He practically had his hand down your shirt," Nigel says sceptically.

"He touched my shoulder."

"Just watching out for you, gorgeous."

Adam bites his lip, then smiles out the window. "It was quite funny."

Nigel leans into the seat. "Your entitled rich boy act was fucking...masterful."

"It's not an act," Adam points out.

"I suppose not."

Adam bites his lip against a grin. "You suit the whole European muscle thing."

"Also not an act."

Adam nods, foot bouncing thoughtfully. Nigel smiles.

"Did you like ordering me around, Princess?" He doesn't even have to ask, really.

Adam gives him a crooked little grin. "Not sick of it yet?"

"Quite the contrary."

"I'll remember that for later," Adam promises, checking his phone.

"I'm sure you will. Where to now?"

"Another gallery, this one's not open to the public though."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Between shows. I happen to know the artist. Got a special behind the scenes invitation."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Adam nods. "Yeah, of course."

He can't do this every day, of course. No matter how much he'd like to. Today, though, he can indulge Adam. He opens the door for him again when they get to the gallery, staying in his role for now. Adam's smile of thanks is reward enough.

Nigel watches him enter the gallery like he owns it. He's a marvel. True to expectation, the place is a mess; crates and paint cans and scaffolding are scattered around. Nigel loves the feeling of chaos in a normally utilitarian space. A woman in a suit that looks like it cost more than Adam's education is overseeing, and she lights up at the sight of him.

"Adam Towers. I never thought I'd see you in daylight."

"Any longer and I may disintegrate," he agrees. He air-kisses her cheek and she does the same. Nigel refrains from curling his lip. "How's your wife?" Adam continues. "Settling in okay?"

"Still with the morning sickness," Margot confides rather smugly. Nigel refrains from shaking his head. Americans.

"Lucky Alana," Adam says idly. He looks back over his shoulder at Nigel and smiles crookedly. "Margot, I'd like to introduce you to someone."

"Oh?" Margot looks at Nigel too.

"This is Nigel, he's my ah- hm, what are you? My date." Adam curls his arm through Nigel's, smile warm and unfettered by the meanness he clearly considered, then. "Margot is a friend of mine."

"Some date, if he's dragging you to interviews. Welcome." Margot holds out a hand for Nigel to shake.

"He knows how to fucking treat a guy," Nigel agrees. He slants a look down at Adam, raises a brow.

Adam grins. "You like me just the way I am, who're you kidding?"

Nigel lets his eyes drop to Adam's lips. "Of course I do, gorgeous."

"I don't think I realised you dated, Adam," Margot muses.

"As opposed to?"

"Oh, I dunno. I had an incubus sort of scenario in mind."

"Let's ask Nigel. Darling, have I been sucking away your life force through your cock?"

Nigel flicks his hair back to hide his surprise. "An uncomfortably accurate summary of events, yes."

Adam looks back at Margot. "There you go, then. Now...is dear Anthony here today or must I come back later?"

"He's 'ruminating on his vision' upstairs," Margot says dryly. "Go on up."

"Ruminating," Adam sighs. "Nigel, would you like to meet a particularly bovine artist?"

"Curious. You have my attention."

"You'll see what I mean." Adam tugs Nigel toward a set of metal stairs leading up into a glass loft-type area. Nigel shoots Margot a wry smile as they go. He's curious about her. Adam will surely tell him whatever he decides to, of course.

"So this is a social visit," he says absently.

"Not this part," Adam says. "But Margot and I are...social."

"Does that mean you've slept together?"

Adam laughs. "Only once. Only because we were very drunk. I don't have the equipment she likes."

Nigel isn't sure how he feels about that. Objectively, these things happen. On the other hand...

Adam smirks. "Don't be jealous, Nigel."

He doesn't answer, partially because he can't think of anything that isn't vicious, and partly because the stairs are seeing to it that he's distracted. Fuck, he's getting old. Consequently, when they reach the loft room he's already disgruntled. He's starting to half suspect Adam has fucked whatever his name is, too. He's sure Adam will make it abundantly clear if he has. While he's sure he _can_ play whatever game it is that Adam wants him to, he isn't entirely sure he wants to. The rules and the outcome are seemingly changeable; indeterminable.

He soon finds out what Anthony looks like, and he isn't relieved: dark tousled hair shot with silver, with a loosely draped scarf and a wide V-necked shirt, sitting cross-legged in an empty spot on the concrete floor. It must be the look these types settled on to find their kin. He looks around at the sound of their arrival and smiles.

"Adam, is it that time already?" Then he glances up at Nigel. "Oh, and you brought a friend."

"I did. Anthony Dimmond, this is Nigel."

"Delighted," Anthony says, pushing himself to his feet. He's barefoot and wearing yoga pants. His eyes are dark and sparkling. Nigel decides he hates him.

"Likewise, I'm sure." He shakes the proffered hand. Anthony catches his eye, and then smiles as he retracts it.

"How do you know Adam?"

"Socially," Nigel says promptly, glancing over.

"We're dating," Adam corrects. That's twice now. It's possibly a record day for the times Nigel has felt simultaneously irritated and delighted. He's trying to decide if Anthony is irritated too. If he is, he hides it well, eyes flicking over Nigel like he's debating test driving a car.

"Well, congratulations and Godspeed."

"Seems to be the consensus. Adam, darling, is there anywhere I can smoke up here while you and Anthony... talk?"

"Oh- anywhere, I do. There's a window seat, if you like." Anthony chimes in, pointing.

"Thank you, Anthony," Nigel mutters, stalking over and cracking the window. He can feel Adam's attention lingering on him as he and Anthony start to talk, quietly at first. Nigel tries not to listen. Or to be annoyed. They're just talking. He's not going to punch Anthony Cunting Dimmond just for talking to Adam.

Adam actually looks vaguely bored. He glances over at Nigel. Nigel blows out a cloud of smoke and makes a rude gesture. The smile Adam cracks is a temporary relief from the boiling, insidious rage that Nigel is sitting on. He's not sure if Adam sees it. Or cares.

He contents himself with watching him. The shallow resemblance between Adam and Anthony is becoming amusing. He wonders if Adam just... fancied fucking himself. He chuckles a bit: he wouldn't put it past him. Nigel has no interest in the photocopy when he could have the portrait. As it stands, he wants to take the portrait home and study it some more. He wonders if Adam intends to give him the chance. Maybe not today. Nigel sighs at the thought.

"Not interested in art?" Dimmond calls over, probably assuming he's listening to whatever he's blathering about.

"I am, actually."

"Oh, are you?" Adam chimes in.

"Yes, I like photography." He's not overly fond of Adam's blatant fun-making. Dimmond seems disappointed - Nigel understands from him talking at great length that he does some sort of collage painting. He quite likes that he looks put out. Enough to press it. "I'm thinking of buying that black and white from the exhibition before, actually."

"Oh, are you?" Adam perks up. "I didn't know you were paying attention."

"Of course I was. You liked that one." He watches Adam think about that and turns back to Dimmond. He stubs his cigarette butt out on the windowsill and lights another. "I don't really understand your collage thing, but that's why Adam's the one writing the article."

"Well, in that case, I hope you read it."

Nigel smirks. "I'm sure I will."

Anthony tuts a bit. "What do you do, Nigel?"

"Nothing that makes it into fancy magazines."

"And if you're debating buying a photo from the exhibit, I'm guessing you're not a plumber either."

"No."

Anthony looks at Adam. "Mysterious, your man."

Nigel waits for whatever words Adam will decide to use to skewer him. Or Anthony.

"All part of his charm, isn't it, darling?" For Adam, that's completely mild. Even complimentary, which is a new one.

"Darling," Nigel echoes. "How sweet."

"Like me."

"Oh, exactly like you."

Adam grins at him, warm and favouring. Nigel thinks Dimmond is starting to look faintly constipated. Not enough attention, clearly.

"Should I leave?" he says, affecting amusement.

Adam laughs. "Do you want to?" That makes his face go pinched, and Nigel hides his smile behind his hand as he smokes. "Anthony, darling, I'm joking. We haven't finished talking about the multimedia display for your opening." Adam glances at Nigel. "Nigel, why don't you go look around downstairs? Margot won't mind. I won't be long."

"If you like, gorgeous." Nigel stubs out the cigarette and stands, stretching.

Thankfully, Adam wasn't exaggerating, and he comes to find him a short while later while Nigel is somewhat absorbed by another painting- still half watching Margot in the unfinished exhibition room. He's not sure why she holds his attention like she does. Probably because she's also held Adam's. He's fucking jealous. Six weeks- and one daylight outing- in and he's already come across two fucking people who have seen the Adam that Nigel knows in the dark, lean and tempting and agreeable.

The only thing keeping him from flipping them all off and getting the hell out is the suspicion that that's not anywhere close to the real Adam. He's hoping that was him this morning, writhing in Nigel's arms in the shower. He can't stop thinking about it.

"Nigel?" Adam touches his shoulder, and he jolts out of his reverie. "Are you ready to go?"

"Absofuckinglutely."

Adam smiles at him. He gives Margot a light wave. "Until next time, darling. Give Alana my best."

Margot smiles and nods. Adam takes Nigel by the arm as they exit the gallery, leaning into him.

"Where to now?" Nigel asks.

Adam looks at the time. "Up to you. Do you... want to spend any more time with me?"

Nigel bites his lip. "Well. I'd like to at least go somewhere where you haven't fucked half the people in attendance."

"So... Hampstead, then." When Nigel remains unamused, Adam nudges him gently. "Oh, come on. Margot is a lesbian and Anthony is a fucking idiot, it's not like I'm cruising for better options."

"I feel like a fucking idiot," Nigel grumbles. Adam's face stretches between sorry and annoyed. Nigel sighs. "Lunch?"

"Only if it's of the liquid variety." Nigel frowns. "It's a joke, Nigel... what the hell is going on with you?"

Nigel can think of precisely no responses that don't sound pathetic or judgmental. Adam gives him a look, and then sighs.

"Come on then. Lunch."

Nigel scowls even more, but follows him to the car. He's already leaning over to tell the driver where to go when Nigel slides in. He lets Adam tuck against his shoulder and sighs. Adam nuzzles him outrageously. It takes him a good few minutes to work up to what he wants to say.

"I apologize for my attitude earlier."

Nigel sighs heavily, ignoring the low, selfish buzz he gets from hearing the words.

"I shouldn't have thrown those two in your face like that," Adam continues.

"Why did you?" He senses Adam's struggle to provide an answer beyond _I'm a bastard._

"I... didn't think, I guess... and I wanted you to stay with me so... I disregarded how it might make you feel."

"It's more about the things you said, Princess."

"Which ones? Was it the part about us dating?" Nigel nods. Adam tilts his head. "Aren't we? We went on a date last night."

"These people know what the concept means to you."

"What do you think the concept means to me, Nigel?"

"I think you think it is a funny joke," Nigel sighs.

Adam frowns at that. "I- I don't."

"It seems like you do."

"Well- I don't. You're not funny for starters," Adam mumbles, "and neither am I. I... I introduced you as my date because... I wanted them to know you were interested in me."

"Why was that important to you?" Nigel asks.

"Because- because neither of them are," Adam says it fast, then looks out the window.

Oh. Nigel sees the outline of things now. He's not sure how he feels for a moment. It was shitty, but he thinks Adam realizes that. And he himself may have misinterpreted a few things.

"It... meant a lot to me that you came looking for me," Adam continues, quietly. "And that... you seem to actually like me."

"I thought it scared you that I came looking for you."

"It did."

Adam feels the need to mock Nigel for liking him, too. They're both complete contradictions. But that seems to be the truth of Adam. "Jesus," he mumbles.

Adam glances over at him. He looks a bit sheepish. And gorgeous. Beautiful Adam, who redefines the term high-maintenance. Nigel needs a moment.

"Dating, huh," he murmurs eventually.

"Apparently."

Nigel nods. "All right, Princess."

Adam looks back out the window. The collar of his jacket hides half his face, but Nigel lets him have a moment. He thinks he might be smiling. What a perverse creature. Nigel wants to keep him.

He's a little surprised when Adam turns back and kisses him soft. All Nigel has to do is open his mouth for him and Adam is in his lap the next moment.

"You're giving me fucking whiplash, darling," he tells him, not unkindly.

"I can't help it."

"I can tell." They both make uncertain faces at one another for a moment before Adam kisses him again. Nigel sighs and gives in: it's an easy call. Adam wants him. Adam can have him. He curls his arms around him carefully, sighing into his mouth. He'll allow this at least until they get to the restaurant. Adam seems content to do so, too.


	5. Chapter 5

True to his word - and against his instincts - Adam lets himself date Nigel from that first dinner, over several weeks and a great many drunken, fucked-up nights out in London. Once or twice, he lets himself be talked into attending one of Nigel's work events so he can drag him off as soon as his presence is no longer needed. Once or twice, he drags Nigel to one of his own invited functions.

All in all, dating Nigel is pretty good- at least the sex is fantastic, and Nigel has ways of looking after him that make Adam feel... better. He's already started going on about how he wants to fit Adam a better lock. Adam, who has trouble working his current lock after three or so too many drinks, is willing to be convinced. He's less sure about the current subject under discussion.

"You want me to what?" he says, stealing Nigel's cigarette and stalking naked to his bedroom window to open it a crack.

"Come out with me this afternoon, and I'll teach you how to shoot a pistol."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..."

"It is a good idea. You should know how to shoot someone- tasers and knives and whatever poppycock shit your girlfriends told you to get are only effective if you're close to someone. Guns keep people back." Adam chews on his lip for a moment, and Nigel sits up to steal his cigarette back. "At least come and have a crack, darling. And if you don't like it, you'll just have to rely on me to scare off any intruders."

"Fine." Adam sighs. He leans back into Nigel's waiting arms, comforted by his warm chest; solid weight. He has had a bad week; there's a murder investigation dominating the news, and his editor is being a shit about his latest gallery review. Maybe he would feel better after shooting some things.

He gets into one of Nigel's fancy cars with him and zones out until they arrive: he's expecting a fancy shooting range, full of pale, posh twats in banker's suits. What he gets is a deserted warehouse in an area so rough that he actually shudders getting out of the car. Nigel keeps a gentle, reassuring arm around him. It's an industrial estate near the Docklands, but whatever industry was here seems to be long gone now.

"Nigel..." he looks around, bemused. "Where the fuck are we?"

"I rent this place. Have my own gun range set up in one of the storage bays. It's easier than any of the public places."

"Easier... for what?"

"Privacy, mostly." There's a fancy keypad on the door, which Nigel uses to let them in. Adam looks around the warehouse, not entirely sure what he's seeing. They're in a drab corridor with a few small rooms and offices attached. And Adam, after a moment, can hear another familiar accented voice. 

" Fucking Nigel, showing his face at last."

Nigel gives Adam a look that says, _here we go_. Adam hasn't seen Darko since the stockbroker party incident. He's not sad about it.

He arrives in one of the doorways, giving Nigel a look like he's smelt something unpleasant. "I thought I saw him on the cameras."

Cameras? Adam hadn't spotted those.

"Congratulations, you get a prize now," Nigel says dryly.

"Is the prize you acting like a twat?" Darko replies.

Adam sees something cross Nigel's face fleetingly. He says something in Romanian to Darko, so sharp that even Adam flinches.

Darko ignores it, just glaring at Adam. "I thought we had an understanding, boy."

"Does he look like he's hurt to you?" Adam shoots back.

"Hey," Nigel says, stepping between them. "What the fuck is this?"

"I told you what Darko said to me, didn't I, darling?"

"Yes. And Darko and I had our own conversation about it," Nigel says, glaring at his partner.

"And neither of you fucking listened to me," Darko says, dryly.

"And you can be a big boy and deal with that," Nigel dismisses. Darko sets his jaw and looks a lot like he doesn't want to. Nigel glances at Adam. "Just a second, darling."

In that second, he has Darko up against the wall, cigarette still clenched in his teeth and his hair in his eyes. He hisses in words too low to make out. Darko chokes against his grip. Whatever Nigel is saying makes him struggle, then go limp.

Adam- who took a step back without even realising it- releases his breath when Nigel releases Darko, who glares at them both and stalks out of the room.

Eventually, Nigel looks back at Adam, all eyebrows and smiles again.

"Shall we?"

"That was fucked up, Nigel," Adam says. "What did you say to him?"

"I merely suggested he keep his opinions to himself in polite company, darling."

"I know some of those were swear words, Nigel."

"Is swearing not allowed anymore?"

Adam snorts; lets it drop. "Are we going to shoot or are we leaving before Darko murders me?"

"We're going to shoot. Come on."

Taking a deep breath, Adam follows him. The range is set up in a long, empty room. A locked cabinet yields a selection of handguns and ammunition. There's no paper targets like in the movies, but there are old retail mannequins against the back wall. They're interspersed with burlap sacks with circles spray painted on them, but Adam sees Nigel in the mannequins. It's very Doctor Who.

"Are you going to tell me why the fuck you've got a shooting range? Security guards get a licence to kill now, do they?"

Nigel just looks at him like he's missing something. "No, Adam."

Adam feels gripped by trepidation. He keeps watching Nigel; the gun in his hands as he loads it with blanks. He explains what he's doing, the parts and anatomy of the piece; the ammunition it normally takes.

"Nigel..." Adam stalls him, resisting the urge to wring his hands and ask to go. Nigel meets his eyes, flicking back his fringe with a questioning look. "This is... freaking me out a little."

The softness in Nigel's face is entirely disarming. Adam relaxes just at the sight of him, gentle and his again.

"It's all right, Adam. I'd like you to try it, but you don't have to." He comes to him, setting the handgun down, cupping his face gently, hands smelling of metal and rubber. "Hey. Do you think I'd ever hurt you?"

Adam shakes his head. "No, I don't."

"Good, because I promise you I never will." Nigel strokes his cheek. "You don't need to be afraid. This is just for fun." He noses against his temple for a moment. "Do you want to leave?"

"No," Adam sighs. He's being unreasonable, he thinks, the nervousness abating slowly.

Nigel kisses his forehead. He smells good, and he feels safe, and Adam is at least a tiny bit curious under the nerves. When Nigel pulls back, he hands Adam ear protection and puts on his own, then he picks the piece up again, spinning the chamber and clicking it back into place. He puts it into Adam's hand, where it feels curiously heavy.

"All right, gorgeous. Safety is off, but there's just blanks in this one, so don't worry. Keep the nose pointed at the floor at all times when the safety is off, and to put it back on, just push this little nick. Good. Okay. Now when the gun goes off, the force is going to want to make it knock up, okay? You have to keep your arms steady. Keep your wrists tight."

Adam squares his shoulders a bit and raises the gun with shaking hands.

"All right."

Nigel uses his hands to set Adam into the proper stance and instructs him to aim and shoot. He's a shockingly patient teacher.

Adam hits nothing the first two shots, staggered a bit by the recoil even though Nigel warned him to lock his arms. With Nigel's big hands steadying his wrists, he hits a mannequin in the shoulder

"This is harder than it looks on TV," he blurts, vaguely annoyed. Stubborn.

"Nothing like a camera," Nigel kisses his cheek, "you're doing well."

He lets Adam empty the gun and reloads for him a few more times, then Adam sighs and hands him the gun, wiping damp hair off his face. "Is there a bathroom, Nigel?"

"I don't know what state it'll be- down that way, gorgeous, last left."

He starts cleaning the gun, and Adam slips out. The corridor is straight, no chance of getting lost unless he wanted to. Some of the doors are ajar, some are locked. He hears voices behind one at the end of the hall and peeks automatically.

Then, he carries on walking as fast as he can until he finds the bathroom, heart rate picking up a notch. Once he gets there, he locks the door behind him, sits on the toilet lid, and swears softly for a minute. Drugs. Of course it's drugs.

He knew Nigel had drugs, occasionally used drugs. The first bloody night they met, and that wasn't the last time. But Christ, that has nothing on the sheer volume of bricks of white that he's just seen. No wonder he's rolling around in a fucking cruiser all the time, fuck, fuck. Mystery of how he can afford his house: also solved. Adam starts to pull himself together: Nigel will come looking if he stays here panicking. No wonder Darko didn't want him here.

He finishes up and washes his hands, heading quickly back to Nigel, who is smiling to himself around a filter- but quickly stops when he sees Adam's face. Fuck, he's shit at hiding things.

"What's wrong?" Nigel asks, immediately. Adam takes a breath, nostrils flaring. Nigel wouldn't have brought him here and let him wander around if he cared if he saw. Nigel also isn't holding a gun anymore, blanks or no.

"You're a drug dealer."

No real surprise at the accusation.

"I'm a drug distributor, actually."

"Ah, the corporate level." Adam bites his lower lip.

Nigel tilts his head, waiting, it seems. "Come on Princess. You must have known something was afoot."

Adam sighs. "Yes, I suppose."

Nigel holds a hand out to him, questioning. "You're upset."

"Maybe." Adam isn't sure. He bites his lip, and then takes Nigel's hand. Nigel pulls him to a chair and sits him in it.

"Let's talk about it," he says, like a man who is not used to doing so.

"You first."

Nigel sucks his teeth a bit, thoughtful. Adam crosses his arms but doesn't interrupt. "What do you want to know?" Nigel says.

"That's a dodge if I ever heard one. What do I need to know?"

"Not that much. I never touch product, I have something on every cop in London and I am not interested in transporting anything but drugs."

"That first part is a lie," Adam says.

"I never touch _our product_. That's a bad way to run a business."

"We did coke the night I met you," Adam points out.

Nigel sighs slowly. "I know that. That room down there is not for me," he continues. "It goes out in the same quantities I receive it. If I want something, I buy it."

"Big of you," Adam mutters.

"I'm trying to make a fucking point," Nigel says. "I don't have a drug problem. That's not what this is. This is a business, and I need to know if you have a problem with that."

Adam bites his lip hard. "I have a problem if you're going to get caught, or if you're going to get shot up in some fucking- gang thing- And don't tell me neither of those can happen!"

Under Adam's glare, Nigel tilts his head. He looks like he's never even had to think of explaining himself before, and like he's finding it daunting.

"I'm hoping neither will," he says slowly.

"That won't stop them from happening though."

"Listen, Adam- I have money. I have an escape plan. You don't have to worry about that."

"Unless you get me shot. Is that why I'm really here?"

"No, you won't be getting shot, darling." Nigel touches his knee. "I promise you that."

He has a fairly good idea now why Darko thinks Nigel is bad for him. And why Nigel so viciously reprimanded him. "That fight you had with Darko earlier…"

"What about it?"

"I'm a little less than comfortable with the idea of getting in the middle of your... partnership."

"Darko and I have been partners for many years and had much bigger things come between us. We're still here."

Adam frowns. Much bigger than him? That sounds less than flattering. Nigel must see his thought process, because he sighs.

"I mean worse."

"This is just a big thing, Nigel." Adam watches his face; the way he ranges from defeated to annoyed to fretful and then solemn in just a few seconds.

"We should have this conversation somewhere else, darling," Nigel says.

"Where do you think would be better?"

"I'll take you home."

Adam stands up, ignoring Nigel's helping hand. He doesn't miss the way his jaw sets; the stiffness in his shoulders as he pulls his jacket back on. Nigel's going to be dramatic about this, he can tell. He's not convinced he isn't, too. He can feel it simmering under his skin.

They drive back to Adam's in near silence. Nigel hesitates at the bottom of the stairs, like he's not sure he's invited in. Adam rolls his eyes and keeps walking. "Come on, we can't talk if you're outside like a dog."

"Will I be required to beg?" Nigel says as Adam lets them inside.

Adam stops himself from his instinctive rebuttal about Nigel just showing up at his house regardless: that won't help and isn't fair. It's probably the first time he's kept himself from saying anything that won't help. "No, we're having a conversation, aren't we?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just heads for the kitchen to pour himself a drink. Nigel closes the door behind him and lights a cigarette, waiting. "Drink, Nigel?"

He shakes his head, taking an agitated drag on his cigarette. Fine. More for Adam.

"Okay," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "Let's start over."

Nigel dips his chin, nodding.

"So, Nigel. Tell me what you do."

"I run a drug smuggling operation," Nigel says, somewhat sheepishly, "and I stop people getting beaten up at parties."

"Is that part just a front, then?"

Nigel purses his lips. "Of course."

"Does it work? On more than just me."

"Yes." He sighs.

"But you're really there to do business."

Nigel nods. "Our staff are, yes."

"Even the big scary ones?"

"They're still for protection. It's a dangerous game, I won't do you the disrespect of lying."

Adam sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Like you did at first, you mean?"

"I can't go around telling people I like the look of the truth, Adam." Nigel sighs and gestures meaninglessly with his cigarette. "You'd just made it a point to tell me you were a journalist, after all."

"Yes, because telling the truth is normal for me."

"Not telling journalists about my illegal activities is normal for me."

Adam huffs. "You did whip your drugs out in front of me." Then he narrows his eyes. "Was that a fucking test?"

"No, I wanted to watch you snort coke." Nigel shrugs. "It probably would have been an issue if you'd been horrified, I guess."

"Would you still have fucked me?"

Nigel huffs. "Yes."

"Would you still have tracked me down?"

Nigel bites his lip. "Probably."

Adam tosses back a gulp of his drink, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Nigel, still standing, shifts from foot to foot.

"Do you want me to go?"

"I didn't invite you up here just to make you leave," he sighs.

"You're well within your rights to do so, even so."

Adam shoots him a look. "I know that."

Watching Nigel chew his lip and look at all the doors and windows is unpleasantly satisfying. Adam waits for him to reply. He just gives him a shrug. "All right."

"What now?"

"I don't know, darling. Is there something else you want to talk about?"

"Maybe," Adam sighs. "Maybe not."

Nigel finally shifts, coming to perch beside him on the couch, movements measured. "You know if you wanted to walk away, I'd leave you alone, Adam. I swear to you."

"I believe you." He does, strangely.

Nigel nods. He takes his cigarettes out and taps one out, then back in again. Fidgeting. Adam doesn't think he's ever seen him do it before. "I'm sorry."

"What was that? I didn't catch it." Adam makes sure he doesn't smile. Nigel doesn't quite deserve it yet.

"I said I'm sorry," he murmurs. "That I didn't tell you."

"No more secrets," Adam relents.

"No more."

Adam eyes Nigel for another moment. "Go get in my bed," he says softly.

It takes a beat, but Nigel slowly smiles. Adam stays stern. There's only one way he thinks he can make himself understood right now. Nigel watches him a moment longer, and then goes. It's a relief.

Adam rubs his eyes for a moment. He needs to take control of this situation, even if it's against his natural inclination. After a moment, he follows Nigel into the bedroom, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. Nigel's still unbuttoning his shirt. He looks so good, bronze and silver. Adam sighs at the sight. Maybe it's shallow, but he could forgive a lot to such a beautiful man.

He watches him unbuckle his belt and take off his jeans. Nigel watches him right back.

"And the rest," Adam murmurs.

Nigel obeys until he's completely bare. He holds Adam's gaze, chin down, the light in the room creating pockets of shadow over his eyes.

Adam raises his brows. "And in the bed."

"Any particular position, darling?" Nigel says, with a bite to his voice.

"Just get comfortable, and start touching yourself for me."

Expression just a touch wary now, Nigel kneels onto the mattress and squares his shoulders before he curls a hand around his cock, barely hard but filling out after a few slow strokes. Adam knocks a few discarded shirts to the floor and sprawls in an armchair at the end of his bed. He sees Nigel's jaw set, displeasure evident. Still, he does as he's told.

Adam bares his teeth in a grin. "Very good," he murmurs, tilting his head, "keep going. Tell me how it feels," he purrs.

"Good," Nigel sighs, "tight and hot."

"Too dry?" Adam murmurs.

"Going to help me out with that?" Nigel says.

"Hold out your hand," Adam says teasingly. When Nigel does, he says, "Spit in it."

"You fucking spit in it," Nigel hisses.

Adam is thrilled with that reaction. He stands up, takes Nigel's hand, and spits squarely in his palm. "There you are, darling."

Nigel grasps Adam's wrist with his free hand. "Stay."

"Not yet. Put your hand back on your cock." They lock eyes for a moment. Nigel bares his teeth and finally complies. Adam watches his eyelids flutter. "Good," Adam mutters. "Go faster."

Nigel seems resigned to Adam not participating. He tips his chin up, breaths coming a little faster. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking how good you look, Nigel."

"Is that all?"

Adam tilts his head and smiles. "Wondering how long you'll behave."

"I'm curious about that myself."

"Any incentive I can offer?"

Nigel sighs. "Your approval is sufficient."

"I approve of this. Keep moving your hand." Nigel nods, stomach muscles cording as he keeps going. Adam is helpless to stop himself from shifting onto the bed. "How does it feel now?"

"A little bit like torture."

"Something I can help with?"

Drawing a long, shaky breath, Nigel just closes his eyes. "At least talk to me. Tell me what to do."

"Keep stroking. Make some noise."

Nigel grits his teeth, hand working a little harder. "Am I coming all by myself?" he asks, strained.

"I haven't decided if you're coming at all, yet."

Nigel says something in Romanian.

"Cruel prince," he mutters when Adam raises a brow.

"We'll see." He can't help nosing into his cheek, smiling at the sigh the contact elicits.

"Tell me what you see," Nigel begs.

"Mm, I see one of the scariest fuckers I've ever met doing exactly as I ask," Adam murmurs, "so gorgeous like this, darling, so hard for me."

Nigel licks his lips, looking lost. "Will you undress with me?"

He thinks about it, and finally shrugs. "You can undress me, if you like."

Nigel makes a soft sound and pounces. He all but rips Adam's shirt open, handling him down onto his back to undo his jeans, expression intent, hungry. When he's tugged off his shorts, it's all too easy for Adam to snag a hand in his fair hair and tug him down.

"Put your mouth on me."

Nigel's dick jumps. His hands squeeze Adam's thighs roughly. Breaths coming hard, he lets Adam guide him down, curling his fingers around his cock before he closes his lips over the head. Adam stifles a groan.

"Fuck, that's it."

Nigel's hair falls over his face. Adam smooths it away. Watching him is its own pleasure, almost as good as feeling his cheeks hollow as he sucks him deeper. He's forgotten about himself completely. Adam can't help but adore him for a second. It's inconvenient, truly. Some punishment he's managing.

He gives Nigel's hair a tug to make himself feel better, and Nigel moans weakly around his mouthful. Adam twists his fingers more firmly into his hair and arches up. He's knocked breathless when Nigel takes it without complaint. His teeth bare.

"Fucking hell." Christ, he's not going to be able to resist. He bucks again, going deep, and Nigel grips the sheets and makes a rough, wet noise of need as he swallows his gag.

"I won't stop until you signal me," Adam tells him. A glance up with sharp eyes tells him he's heard. He thrusts harder, lifting Nigel's head for a better angle. He sees his knuckles tighten on the sheets, but he doesn't protest. It's all too easy to be rough with him; to push into the tight heat until Nigel finally pulls back for breath, lips flush and spit slick, eyes dark.

"Tell me," Adam breathes.

"Want more," Nigel murmurs, "want you to keep going. I can- I want to."

Adam touches his cheek. "Good. Come on." He brushes his cheek gently with his thumb before he reclaims his grip on his hair.

"Best boy," Nigel murmurs.

Adam grins, guiding his cock against his lips. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes, yes," Nigel's tongue darts out to taste.

Adam can't help but groan at the feeling. He lets Nigel lick over the head; suck soft and open mouthed at his skin. Then he pulls him back down onto his cock with his hands tight in his hair.

He fucks into it until his breath is just as short.

"Nigel," he grits. Nigel's hands are steady on his hips. He doesn't stop until Adam's thighs tighten; until the bright heat in him gets overwhelming.

He makes a loud strangled noise. Nigel jolts as Adam comes, throat working on a swallow. Threads of drool and come escape down his chin. Adam shudders at the sight.

"So good," he breathes, stroking his hair. He swipes a finger through the mess on Nigel's chin and touches it to his tongue.

Nigel's eyes flutter shut, breaths rushed. Adam watches him try to come down from the edge as he sucks the mess off Adam's fingers.

"Fuck, Adam," he says finally.

Adam stretches out beside him, looking him over. Nigel wipes his mouth, looking wrecked considering he's not even come yet. Adam takes pity.

"Put your hand back on yourself," he whispers into his ear, nipping the soft lobe. With a whimper, Nigel does as he's told.

"Adam..."

"Keep going, Nigel."

Still he complies, shifting onto his back and fisting slick down his length, somewhat faster now he's worked up over the contact. Adam glances down, watches the head of his cock peek wetly from the moving circle of his fingers. He flicks his tongue against Nigel's earlobe again.

"Good." When Nigel arches up, Adam settles his hand around the base of his throat.

Nigel swallows reflexively and arches, his own hand tightening, the sound wet and obscene.

"Adam-"

"What?" he purrs. He's delighted by Nigel's frustrated huff. Adam squeezes a bit, leaving his lips at Nigel's ear. "You seemed to like me choking you on my cock, Nigel. What about like this?"

"I want you to," Nigel gasps out.

Adam leans up to get more leverage on his hand. He looks into Nigel's eyes, silently checking he's ready, and then puts his weight into it. "Keep going."

Nigel's face begins to flush. His hand moves slickly, making his body tense. With his breath stoppered up, brows drawn, he looks awful and gorgeous. Adam sets his jaw, enjoying himself possibly a little too much. He watches with every ounce of his concentration. When Nigel's veins start to stand out in his forehead, Adam releases his grip slowly.

"Don't stop," Nigel snaps.

"Take a breath and I won't."

Nigel does, gritting his teeth when Adam presses again. He's starting to feel a strange weightless swirl in his stomach, like he's looking down from a height. Nigel is drawing tight, eyes clenching shut as a groan bleeds out, vibrating against Adam's palm.

"You look gorgeous," Adam breathes, "all on show for me. Come on, darling."

Nigel jolts and starts to come with a silent gasp, his whole body coming alive with minute, clenching shakes. Adam keeps his hand tight for another moment before releasing his grip. Nigel's voice is shot when he groans, hand still working, slowing down. His stomach and fingers are a mess. His face is a mess, eyes wet from the choking, cheeks still stained pink. Hair everywhere. Adam is smitten, despite everything. Perhaps even more smitten.

"Okay?" he checks. Nigel smirks and touches his shoulder with his clean hand.

"Okay." Something is still lurking behind his eyes, but Adam doesn't push. Nigel pulls him down and kisses him, sighing. Adam strokes his hair back. "Even?" Nigel whispers.

"Even," Adam agrees, and watches his eyes clear.

He wraps his arms around Adam slowly, burying his face in his neck. "Thank you."

Adam doesn't feel like he deserves thanks for this. He sighs and kisses Nigel's temple.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Yes, of course." Nigel doesn't even hesitate.

"No work?" Adam asks.

"Fuck ‘em," Nigel grumbles.

It makes Adam happier than he thought it might. Happier than is probably wise. This whole thing is a fucking disaster, he knew it would be. He knew it, and he resolutely can't make himself care when Nigel is within fifty feet of him. Especially not when he's sticky with come and glowing with heat and coming down from Adam embarrassing him; hurting him. He deserves to be called cruel, truly.

Nigel doesn't seem disturbed by it, though: he's breathing steady, expression content. Adam can't help kissing him softly, stroking his cheek and down his chest. With a pleased hum, Nigel stretches under his touch.

"We work well together, don't we?" he rumbles.

Adam laughs. "If you like things unpleasant, I guess so."

"Is it all so bad as that?"

"Darling," Adam lets his exasperation be fond, "you're a felon and I'm a bitch."

"You -"

"Are perfect just the way I am, I know."

Nigel laughs. "Yes, that." He cuddles Adam closer. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" He still sounds raspy and broken.

Adam touches gently at his throat, remembering how his own had felt. He feels guilty, he thinks. Guilty for liking it. God, he's fucked up.

"Yeah. I could eat."

"Will you order something?" Nigel asks quietly.

"Yes, darling." He rummages around for his phone. "What shall we get?"

"You decide, I'll buy. My wallet…" he reaches half-heartedly toward his jeans.

Adam takes his card. "Sushi."

"Sounds nice." Adam makes the call, but Nigel touches his arm when Adam goes to put the card away. "You should keep that," he rasps.

"What on earth for?"

Nigel shrugs. "I'd use it for drinks or food or something nice."

"I can afford my own food."

"Sure, but I'm over here a lot too." He taps the card on Adam's chest. "I want you to have it for if you need it. For anything you want. For a new fucking sofa, because yours is revolting. For a car if you're ever out and stranded. Anything."

"What, I can buy a car?" He grins.

"If you want."

Adam stares at him, then snorts. "You're lucky I don't drive."

Now Nigel snorts. "I'll just station a driver here."

Adam smirks. He puts the card in the back of his phone case with an arched eyebrow. "All right." He's already learning that it's just easier to humour Nigel.

He looks satisfied enough. He excuses himself to use Adam's shower before food arrives and returns with his hair slicked back and his movements loose and easy when he slinks back into bed. His throat is blooming with red smudges. Adam reaches out to touch them gently, and Nigel kisses his wrist.

Adam sighs. "It's hard to hate you when you're so gorgeous, y'know."

"Good." He pulls Adam in and kisses him searchingly. He knows exactly which buttons to push. Adam hates that he likes it so much.

When food comes, Nigel answers the door. They turn the TV on; watch a bad movie that's running while they eat. Nigel keeps a hand resting easy on Adam's outstretched calf, like always. Adam, like always, finds he likes being touched like that. He looks over at Nigel when he's cleared the plates away; when the credits are rolling and Nigel's hand has settled back onto his skin.

"Where do you see this going, then?"

"Mm?" Nigel says sleepily.

Adam nudges him. "Us. Do you think it's serious?"

"As a heart attack," Nigel murmurs.

Adam bites his lip. He nods. "Okay. Good."

He's petrified. He thinks he's happy, too. Somehow he can manage to be both those things at the same time. The same way Nigel is rough and gentle; sweet and scary. This is the stupidest thing he's done in a long time.

Without thinking on it too much, he settles into his side and sighs. "Sure you can stay?"

"Yes, darling."

All right, then. He wraps around Nigel and closes his eyes. Nigel's hand finds his hair, fingers drawing through the curls. Adam kisses his chest in appreciation.

"I can't believe I'm dating a Romanian drug dealer."

"Life takes funny turns," Nigel drawls.

"Ha fucking ha."

Nigel pinches his side. "You don't seem too cut up about it."

"Just talking out loud, darling."

Nigel smiles again. "I like listening to you talk, Princess."

"Good job, I guess." Adam leans up, seeking a kiss. He gets it in spades. Nigel is more than generous with everything he gives. "You shouldn't be so nice to me."

"Why not?" Nigel murmurs.

"Because I'll get used to it."

"Isn't anyone else nice to you?" Nigel sifts through his curls.

"Please, did you see how my friends talk to me?"

"You encourage that," Nigel points out quietly.

"Do not," Adam protests. He sees what Nigel means, though.

"All right- you treat them like they aren't your friends."

Adam shrugs. "I've been mean for a long time. People expect it, or they leave."

"You're not excessively mean to me."

Adam laughs. "Oh?"

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't worth my while."

"Mm. What's your while worth?"

"You tell me, darling."

A hire car and a credit card, apparently. The more Adam thinks of it, the more amusing it is that Nigel wants him as a kept man. "It strikes me that you quite like knowing where I am at all times, Nigel."

Nigel shrugs. "I never said I was nice."

"You're all right." Adam sniffs demonstratively. It gets him a little shake.

"Bitch."

Adam snaps his teeth at him. Nigel kisses him and ends it with a nip of his own. They trade kisses and love bites until they're both too tired to keep their eyes open.

Adam settles into the idea of Nigel's profession. It takes a few weeks; a few more near-arguments. He realises soon enough that he's not willing to give him up, and that the feeling is mutual. That makes it easier to forgive him.

"Hey, Nigel?" He pokes him with his toe absently as he picks at his fruit and yoghurt, stretched out in his underwear one morning on one of Nigel's ugly fucking chairs.

"Yes, gorgeous." Nigel is sprawled too, smoking lazily.

"I want to do something fun today."

"What we did last night wasn't fun?" Nigel grins.

It was fun. Adam still aches. "Yeah, but- I want to do a normal couple thing, not just sit on your dick all day."

"All right," Nigel says good-naturedly. "What would you like to do?"

"I don't know."

"Well, when you think of something...." Nigel leans back and closes his eyes.

Adam kicks him again. "Help me. Suggest things."

"Fucking...the cinema. A picnic. Fox hunting."

"Nigel!"

Nigel snickers. "Let me take you out and replace that shirt I ripped last night."

"Sounds like a fairly brief excursion."

Nigel waves the cigarette at him. "And whatever else we see."

"What, you want to take me shopping?"

"And for lunch, if you like."

"How domestic." Adam's eyes sparkle. He knows Nigel enjoys spending money on him, which is just ridiculous enough to be enjoyable. He's caught: he hasn't even pretended he finds it grossly boring. Nigel grins at him knowingly. Adam sighs and scratches his bare stomach. "Fine. Call a car, I'll let you dress me up."

"You spoil me," Nigel murmurs.

Adam snorts. "Pot, kettle."

"I was being sarcastic."

"Sure you were."

Nigel chucks a cushion at him. "Eat your breakfast."

"Can't with cushions flying at me." He's already done. He sets the bowl aside and jumps up, reaching out for Nigel. "Come shower with me." Nigel doesn't hesitate to follow.

When they're ready to leave- quite a while later- Nigel holds Adam's coat out for him and hums. "We should get you a new one of these as well."

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"It's last season," Nigel shrugs.

Adam smacks him. "It cost a small fortune and I look good in it."

"You'll look good in another one. Let me buy you things. You're a shit spoilt rich kid, by the way." Adam eyes him reproachfully until Nigel herds him out of the door with a quick kiss and his hand on his hip. "Gorgeous, though, Adam."

"Well, at least there's that."

Adam leans up against him in the car while Nigel strokes his hair slowly. It's a familiar position at this point, stranger to be separate. They get out of the car on Bond Street, Nigel seemingly unconcerned about the alarmed looks he garners as they walk. Adam finds he rather enjoys the ones he gets due to proximity.

"Bloody hell, it's a miracle you've never been arrested," he mutters.

Nigel laughs. "Says who?"

"Says me."

"Who says I haven't, though?"

"Don't tell me that."

Nigel laughs and opens a shop door for him. Adam steps in and finds himself immediately uncomfortable at the attention of two sales assistants. Thankfully, Nigel gives an air of wanting to be talked to. And he talks back. Extensively. Almost like Adam isn't there, he starts about wanting new this and that. At the faintly disbelieving look of the first sales assistant- a thin blonde woman with too many teeth- he produces his debit card and hands it to her.

"There you are, darling. Will that get you moving?" It does, predictably. Nigel gives Adam a meaningful look. "We'd like a drink, as well."

"Yes, we would," Adam confirms. "Shall I give you my sizes, or would you prefer to measure?"

There's a lot of fussing after that. Adam stands on a platform and drinks champagne while Nigel smokes on the sofa, playing bored husband uncomfortably well. He's been a bored husband, Adam reminds himself. Then he remembers he isn't the one who ended things, and wonders if he was just good at playing it then, too. He doesn't like thinking about Nigel's ex, though.

"What's wrong with your face?" Nigel asks, when they're more or less alone. Not so bored then.

"Nothing that isn't usually."

Nigel tips his chin up. "Do you want to go?"

"No, not at all."

"All right. I like that colour on you." Adam can't help preening. He does too. "Get that one," Nigel says, approvingly. "Is there a slate grey suit to go with it?" he asks the salesperson. While she scarpers off to find one, Nigel gets up, ashing his cigarette and coming to stand next to Adam, looking up.

"How's the view?"

"Not bad," Nigel purrs.

Adam gives him a grin, reaching out to touch the silver hair at his temples. "Getting more," he muses.

"Yes, I'm sure it's your doing somehow."

"I like it. Very distinguished."

"Mm, is it?"

"Oh yes," Adam winds his arms around his neck. He kisses him softly, ignoring the salesperson when she returns.

Nigel gives him a warm, soft smile, and then returns to his seat. They spend a while in there. Nigel has what they can take away today boxed up and taken to the car.

"Was that enough for you?" Adam teases.

"No, I want a coat, remember?" Nigel looks mischievous. Adam lets him lead him out of the store when they're squared up, watching him closely. He must be getting something out of this. Adam is trying to decode it. Nigel glances at him, then draws an arm around his shoulder. "Why do you always look like I'm about to pull the rug out, darling?"

"Who said it was you?"

"Always answering questions with questions. Such a journalist."

"Least I'm not a psychiatrist."

"You'd be a shit psychiatrist."

"Don't I know it." Adam nudges him. "Stop being so sensitive."

Nigel doesn't say anything to that. He steers him up the street. They spend the rest of the morning terrorising the owners of an outerwear specialist store. Adam warms to role of pampered spouse before long. It's easy when Nigel appears at his shoulder like an allegorical devil, kissing his ear and murmuring, _try this one for me next, darling_ , before he drapes something soft and expensive over his hands.

It's one of those that Adam can't help falling in desperate love with, a butter-soft black wool coat. When he pulls it on, Nigel hums approvingly at his elbow and sips his drink.

"Perfect. Very you."

He's right - the cut is slim and modern yet luxurious.

"Fucking hell," Adam mumbles.

"I'm buying it."

Adam stares at himself in the mirror, then Nigel, and nods. "Okay."

"Wear it now for me?"

Studying himself, he thinks he looks like a demon come to make an infernal deal. "If you like."

"I do, love. I really do."

"All right, darling." Adam smiles helplessly to himself as he wraps it tight.

Nigel raises a hand to the attendant. "He'll take it now. Box up the old one, please."

The man nods automatically. "Yes sir, of course."

Nigel holds a hand up to help Adam down from the step. "Anything else, gorgeous?"

"Lunch, I think." Adam is tired, and Nigel's eyes have gone soft and attentive.

"Lunch. Let's go." He retrieves his card and waves the shop boy to the car. They walk to a restaurant nearby, Adam breathing in the clean scent of his coat collar. It brushes against his neck like silky wings.

In the sheltered doorway of the bistro, Nigel pushes him up against the wall and kisses him deep and searching. Adam clings close.

"Adam," Nigel breathes it like a secret thing, "I fucking love you."

He makes a helpless, hurt noise in response. He feels Nigel's lips against his temple now. He touches Adam's cheek, petting slow.

"Shh. It's all right."

Adam breathes out. "Nigel."

That gets him a wry grin, Nigel's fingers chucking under his chin.

"You've gone red. Let's go inside." He throws off his cigarette butt and opens the door for Adam.

Adam is sure he goes inside, but he can't feel his feet. Someone tries to take his coat. He hangs onto it. Nigel hands his over and shrugs.

"He chills easy. Champagne for the table, and still water, please."

The server jumps to comply, as they always do. Nigel steers him to the table he likes more than the one they were showed to. It's more private, and he does it without blinking or pausing. Adam still has a buzzing in his ears when Nigel sits beside him in the booth; looks at his watch thoughtfully.

"Bit of a late lunch." He hasn't even looked at Adam like he'd looked at him outside. "Could be early dinner, I suppose. What do you think, darling?" He watches Adam.

"Yes, could be."

"Three words in ten minutes, and it's like the day Tennyson died at this table. Don't look so nervous."

"I'm not."

Nigel sets his jaw, and then sighs.

"Bathroom break, excuse me Adam." He gets up with a little smile, getting his phone out as he goes.

Adam nods and grips the edge of his seat. When the server brings the drinks, he drains one glass off the bat and holds it up for a refill. _I... love you_ , his ears repeat helpfully.

"Fuck me," he mutters when he's alone proper, rubbing his eyes. Fuck every part and inch of him. But - Nigel already has, hasn't he? Including his fucking mind, apparently.

He studies the second glass of golden bubbles. The words had sounded pure and honest and weighty. Adam feels the delicacy of them despite. They bubble like molten metal.

Nigel is coming back, his phone to his ear. He looks displeased by something, as usual when he's talking to Darko in any capacity nowadays. Adam smiles hesitantly, sympathetic. He's rewarded with a matching grin, all Nigel's sharp teeth on show.

"I've got to dash, my friend. I'm with Adam." He smiles when he says it. Adam's stomach is suddenly molten too.

He's glad there's a bench; that he can reach out and touch Nigel's hand on the cushion rather than reach for him over the glass. He repeats Nigel's name. He's at the centre of his attention immediately, his dark eyes warm and flinty all at once as he tucks his phone away.

"How's Darko?"

"A miserable, pinch-faced waste of skin. So he's fine."

Adam can't help being curious. Nigel gives him a meaningful look.

"Is there a reason you ask?"

Adam shrugs a bit. "I care about your life."

Nigel smiles again. "Well. He's fine. He's unimpressed with my diminishing work ethic."

"Did you have much of one before?" Adam snorts.

"I set up a multi-million-pound business in a foreign country after getting shot in the head, darling."

"That you did." Adam always feels a little queasy when he's reminded of Nigel's head injury. Maybe because it's a more tangible reminder of the fact he's fucking crazy. As if he needs more.

Nigel changes the subject to a book he's reading. They order food. He's as delightfully compelling as ever, even with that funny line of tension between his brows. Adam feels responsible for it, and burrows into his coat. Nigel doesn't let a single silence fall between them. He keeps it light, like he didn't drop an anvil on Adam in the doorway. Like he doesn't expect Adam to reciprocate, or even want him to. Maybe he doesn't. Adam couldn't say what he wants, himself. Other than Nigel, who he wants like a drug. Fitting, that.

Their fingers stay linked on the bench. Nigel pokes at his lunch with his fork in the wrong hand to avoid letting go. Adam doesn't know what he'd do if he did. When they're finished, he slides around further to lean into his side. Still without breaking their hands apart, Nigel loops his arm around him.

"Anything else? Dessert? Coffee? A short?"

"No, thanks," Adam murmurs.

"The bill then," Nigel gestures at a passing waiter. They're assisted with the usual speed. Back at the car, Nigel pauses to dig in the trunk. Adam watches from the pavement, and bites his lip when Nigel produces a scarf from a box, winding it around Adam's neck carefully. Pale blue wool. He pulls his coat tighter around him.

"I was going to save it, but you seem cold. Let's get in the car."

Adam follows him in. He hadn't seen him buy the scarf. It feels like a cloud under his testing fingers.

"It matches your eyes," Nigel tells him.

Adam bites his lip and hides his face against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"I liked spoiling you today," Nigel tells him.

"I know you did," Adam smiles.

"What else can I buy you?"

Adam looks up at him. His heart gives a fierce pound. "You know I don't need anything."

"I do know that. What do you want?" The question comes with an affectionate nuzzle.

"I want you," Adam murmurs.

Nigel sighs. "Can have that for free."

"I'll have to think of something else, too."

"You do that." Nigel nuzzles him again, stubble rasping skin that's been cushioned by soft wool. Adam keeps the words back for a minute, and then he can't anymore.

"Buy me something shiny."

Nigel chuckles. "Like a mirror for above your bed?"

"No, like something I can wear all the time, something that stays on when I take off my clothes."

Nigel strokes his cheek. "I see."

Adam gives him what he hopes is a naughty grin. He's not sure what it is, truly.

Back at the house, Nigel pours them both drinks and takes them through to the living room where Adam is sitting. "I hate this house," he announces, "I'm going to move." It's a gorgeous house, but Adam understands. It's not Nigel at all. Adam's not sure what is Nigel, but ...not here.

"All right. Any thoughts?"

Nigel shrugs. "Where do you think I'd be happy?"

_With me_. "I don't know. This part of town is a little tame for you."

Nigel snorts. "Big mistake, letting my agent talk me into it. Investment, my ass."

"It'll sell quick, it's not like it's long lived in."

Nigel shrugs. "And I can sell it furnished."

"This place is too big for you, anyway."

"I know. I needed a place to tie up some equity."

Launder money, Adam thinks he means. "Well, where in the city do you go most often?" _Besides my building._

"Jesus. I don't know."

Adam frowns thoughtfully, then reaches for Nigel's tablet. "Well, let's find you something pretty, then."

Nigel sips his drink and stretches out next to Adam on the couch. Adam calls up a real estate site and types in search parameters. He doesn't bother asking Nigel about them. Nigel wouldn't know anyway, not being a native. He leans into Adam, peering over his shoulder to look.

"Make sure the walls are soundproofed," he says helpfully.

Adam gives him a look. "I'm fairly sure that's not the number one concern here."

"Isn't it?" Nigel grins.

Adam pinches him. "Just look at these," he sighs, handing the tablet over. "Most of them are flats in Soho. I think they'd suit."

Nigel peruses idly. He lights a cigarette. "Some of them are crap. Most of them are all right. Not far from yours, are they?" he comments.

"You like where I live," Adam shrugs.

"Your building is full of fucking hipsters."

"Okay, so you don't really want neighbours." Adam taps on an apartment that takes up the entire upper floor of a shopfront. He sees Nigel focus on it and nods to himself. Yes, he likes it. Adam smiles at him. "Probably cost peanuts compared to this place."

Nigel shrugs. No, he clearly doesn't care about that part. "I can put the extra into making it secure."

Secure is better than soundproof, Adam supposes, smiling into Nigel's shoulder.

"Which reminds me," Nigel muses, "your windows are shocking. I want to get the locks changed on them- though just new ones would suffice."

"I'm not sure my landlord will be too keen on that."

"You don't think your landlord will want someone privately restoring your shitted-up windows? Come off it."

Adam pinches him again. This time, Nigel rolls over on him, tablet plunking to the carpet.

"Oof- fucking hell, you're enormous."

"You like it."

"Mm, I don't hate it. Quite nice having a big strapping gangster around."

Nigel makes a face but doesn't call him out on it. Adam wonders when he got so touchy about the truth. He noses at him.

"Hey, do you want to give me something?"

Nigel hums. "What's that?"

"Ride on that gorgeous cock of yours." Adam grins.

"Do you need to ask?"

"You might not have been in the mood." Adam shrugs.

Nigel shifts so their hips align. "Oh. But I am."

"Good."

Nigel noses at him slowly, humming. Adam lifts his chin, allowing Nigel's mouth to run along his sensitive throat.

"God, I've wanted you to fuck me all day," he murmurs.

"I could tell," Nigel says thickly. He rolls his hips down. Adam feels small underneath him, reassuringly caged by the weight of him; his broad arms.

Nigel kisses his neck and jaw again, slow and thorough. Adam hates and loves the way he's so easily worked up by him now, the response practically Pavlovian. He fumbles with the buttons of Nigel's shirt, rakes his fingers through his chest hair. Nigel chuffs a laugh as he lets him strip it off his shoulders. Adam breathes in against his shoulder. Spicy soap and smoke. He whines when Nigel shoves his shirt up and bites gently at his ribs. Then not so gently. Adam pushes up into it. Nigel licks over the indents his teeth leave behind and sighs.

"So lovely."

"Know what else is lovely?" Adam says smartly. "Me, naked, in your bed."

"Riding my cock," Nigel reminds him evenly.

Adam nods, grinning. Nigel slides off him and scoops him up off the sofa, making him laugh with surprise.

"Put me down, you brute," he says, affecting an outraged British damsel, apparently.

"No," Nigel starts for the stairs, mindful of his head and feet. Adam stops struggling, shivering a little instead.

Upstairs, Nigel deposits him carefully on the bed, kneeling between his thighs to start undoing his jeans. He strips him carefully, piece by piece. Adam lets him, wondering what he's thinking; arching into his hands. He feels both denuded and cherished. He watches as Nigel leans down to kiss the centre of his chest. It's different than it usually is, Adam thinks. He remembers what Nigel said to him, earlier. If this is what Nigel's love feels like, he thinks he can't breathe properly under its influence. It feels better than doing blow off his kitchen counter; better than tasting his smoke.

He reaches for Nigel's belt only to have him slip out of reach, pressing Adam's knees up and out.

"Nigel- oh-" he watches his head bow and his breath catches in his throat. Nigel tastes everything, from head to taint, and he does it slowly enough that Adam writhes. It's a slow exploration with his tongue, his hands spreading him wide, tongue lapping in hot strokes. Adam lets himself fold into a tight arch to give him better access.

"Taste fucking gorgeous," Nigel breathes, voice so rough and low with desire that it makes Adam's cock pulse against his belly.

"Taste everything then. I'm all yours."

Nigel breathes hard against his thigh before he goes back to what he was doing. Adam threads his fingers through Nigel's overlong hair, panting softly as Nigel teases him to the point of frustration. Slick smears along his stomach as he leaks in tiny pulses.

Nigel devours him, and then he raises his head and handles his cock into his mouth, humming at Adam's near-shout of relief. His hips jerk, and he takes a deep breath to keep himself from the edge. Nigel's hand trails down as he sucks, fingers stroking spit slick, one pressing slow against Adam's hole and easing in. They both sigh in relief.

"Need you in me," Adam breathes.

"Need to be," Nigel replies.

Adam searches under the pillows by his head for lube. He hands the tube over to Nigel, who quickly slicks himself. He gives Adam cursory preparation, both of them too keen to mind potential discomfort. Adam shoves at his shoulders until he's leaning up against the headboard. Nigel brackets his hips with his big hands and handles him back into his lap, bearing him down onto his cock with a sigh.

"Ride me now," he urges, voice still thick.

Adam does, slow and hard and with emotion brimming in him like a tide coming in. He wants to close his eyes, but resists. Nigel kisses his throat and the corners of his mouth, so tenderly it aches. Adam clasps his hair harder than he means to. He doesn't stop him though, just moving with him, in him, until they're sharing warm bursts of breath and vocalisations. Brief open-mouthed kisses wind in between.

Nigel grips his ribs and buries his face against his sternum as his hips work faster. Adam feels himself losing control. He cries out softly. "Nigel- fuck- so good inside me-"

"Want to stay here," Nigel grits.

"Yeah," Adam nods fast, "always, Jesus." Jesus.

Nigel pulls him into another fierce kiss. Adam goes lightheaded with it. His whole body sings. Nigel grunts as their hips roll sharply, muscles shifting like the predator he is. His predator. His domesticated animal. Adam sighs and runs his hands through his hair. He knows he's staring, letting his feelings carry him away.

Nigel wraps a hand around him and snarls at the resulting clench. Adam gasps, electrified.

"Nigel- _fuck_ -"

Everything he's feeling goes through him like a rush of static, leaving him weak and hanging on. Nigel works it out of him with a touch so familiar it makes Adam's eyes sting. He cries out softly, feeling the mess dripping between them and Nigel still hard and desperate inside him. He slows to let Adam breathe; kisses under his chin and behind his ear, touch needy and devouring.

Adam presses an open mouth against his temple and rolls his hips, shivering.

"Want it inside me, darling, please."

Nigel hisses something rough and foreign and shifts, pressing Adam down onto his back on the mattress and kissing his throat as he fucks him. He keens with every stroke, feeling Nigel's lips track the vibrations.

"Yes- yes- so good, Nigel, please." He wraps his arms tight around his neck and pushes his hips up into his thrusts.

"Adam," Nigel breathes.

"Yes, baby. Tell me." Adam noses at him; tongues his lower lip into his mouth and sucks gently.

"I don't want it to end, love."

Adam doesn't know if he means fucking him or- this. Them. He sighs.

"Mm, don't let it, then."

"Never will." His hips jerk, voice going tight. Adam bears up for his cock again, slutty for the choking groan he gives; the rough push of his hips as it starts. Nigel's body shakes against his and he clutches him tight. The last slow rolls of his hips are maddening. He bites at Adam's shoulder and sighs as he stills.

Adam whines softly as he feels them slip apart. Nigel's fingers wander, feeling where he's slick with his mess; soft from his cock. They both sigh.

"Mine," Nigel whispers. He sounds hopeful.

Adam nods, nosing at him. "Yes, darling."

Nigel kisses the words from his lips. "Promise?"

"Of course."

Nigel sighs and kisses him again slowly. He gets up to grab a towel from the bathroom. He cleans them both with gentle strokes. Adam feels lazy and fucked out and sensitive. He crawls under the covers when Nigel lifts them up, sighing and settling into him as he turns the wall TV on and lights a cigarette. It could be any of a thousand evenings, and Adam thinks he wants them all.

"Nigel," he murmurs, touching at his shoulder; an errant scar on tanned skin.

"Yes, Princess?"

"What you said earlier..." Adam sighs. "I didn't mean to... ignore you."

"You didn't." Nigel doesn't ask what he's talking about.

"I sort of did."

It... bothers him, that Nigel doesn't seem to expect a reply. He's just smiling at him, apparently content.

"Adam. It's okay." Nigel nudges him eventually. When Adam bites his lip, Nigel touches it gently until he releases it. "Adam... if you don't feel the same, you don't and there's nothing I can do. If you do and you can't say it, I'm sure you've got your reasons. If you don't know, that's fine too." It's an unusually diplomatic view for him.

Adam thinks that means something, for him to be considering it. He...he needs time, is what he needs. And to not feel guilty for taking it. Nigel doesn't seem to begrudge him it, is the thing. That makes him feel guilty in itself, though he recognises that's a Him problem.

Like he can hear his thoughts, Nigel kisses Adam's temple gently. "Stop worrying."

"Make me."

That earns him one of those smiles that reveals his canines. "Just kiss me, Adam."

He does. It does the trick.

Nigel and Adam spend the following weeks in a comfortable cycle of fucking, working, and smoking up and eating takeaway in bed whilst looking at flat listings. It's about as close to a normal functional relationship as Adam has ever gotten, and the irony of it being with someone like Nigel isn't lost on him. Even so, he can't deny that they work well together. Adam encourages Nigel not to spend every waking minute running his illegal drug empire, and Nigel- well, Nigel looks at Adam like he's made from the offcuts of angels, even when Adam is telling him something he doesn't want to hear.

It's all going rather well, until Nigel comes to Adam one morning and says, rather formally, "I need a few days."

"A few days?" Adam repeats, pulling his sweatshirt on. "For what?"

He's surprised when Nigel doesn't answer right away, like he's not sure he should have to.

"I have business to attend to and I won't be able to see you."

"Won't be able to see me? What are you talking about?"

"Just trust me, gorgeous. It's nothing to worry about."

"For how long?" Adam tilts his head, bemused.

"Until Friday, maybe. Not long."

Adam turns to him, blinking in confusion. A strange, wrong feeling sets off inside him. He knows he's bleating, but he can't make sense of it.

"You're going out of town?"

"No. I'll be in London. I have to get going soon." Nigel, he notices belatedly, is already dressed. A red flag goes up. A dozen.

"Is- I don't get it. Is something wrong?"

"Of course not." Nigel leans in and bestows a kiss on frowning lips.

"So tell me what's going on. You can't just go 'hey I can't see you for a week' and vanish."

Nigel eyes him evenly. His voice is strangely business-like.

"Yes. I can."

"Well you can," Adam says, irritation rising in his chest, "but it's not really the thing to do when you're in a relationship with somebody."

"It's better this way," Nigel says, looking pained.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? At least tell me where you're going to be. What if I need you?"

"Call me if you need me. Always. And I'll leave you the car."

"That's not good enough-" Adam is choked by something he can't name. He thinks it's fear.

"It will have to be."

"Well it's not-!"

"Let it be," Nigel says, face going shuttered. "Please just let it be."

He doesn't want to. He doesn't understand. In a few hours maybe he'll wonder what he's gotten so wound up about, but right now he can't shake the fear that Nigel is going to get away from him; maybe he's even going to be _with_ someone else. Someone who can say _I love you_ , maybe.

"Fine," he hisses, hands balling up in the hem of his sweater. "Then go!" He pivots on his heel and darts back into his bedroom, slams and locks the door.

"Adam, I don't have fucking time for this," Nigel says through the door, voice rough. "I have to go. Come kiss me goodbye and stop being a brat."

Adam lets himself fall back onto his mattress, the sheets twisted beneath him, smelling of sex and smoke. He pulls a pillow over his head. Through the wadding, he can still hear Nigel's muffled cursing.

"Adam, darling- I _have to go_." His phone rings and he makes a noise of frustration. "Fine. Call me later when you've remembered the world doesn't revolve around you, Princess."

There's another minute of silence. Adam screws his face up under the pillow. Nigel curses again and then leaves.

Adam knows he's acting like a child, but he can't make himself care. Too many things inside him feel broken and ill-fitting. He'd been debating getting up, but now he lights a joint and smokes it to completion in bed, glaring at the ceiling. He falls asleep and dreams of Nigel.

He wakes up and scowls at the ceiling. Did he overreact, or has he been broken up with? He's only been expecting it since day one. It's getting dusky outside, and shit, he must have slept the entire fucking day away. He sits up, grumbling, and goes to the kitchen. He wants a fucking beer. When he has one in hand, he picks up his phone, expecting a message to be waiting.

There's nothing. He sets his jaw and puts it down again, rather harder than necessary. He drains half his beer. He knows he has conveniently forgotten all the times Nigel ditched work for him.

He looks around for something to throw. Colour catches his eyes. His new blue scarf is coiled on the table by his door. There's something sitting on top of it. He goes, brows creasing when he sees the box. Matte, modern, sleek packaging. Jewellery, Adam realises. He has no idea when Nigel bought it. Maybe he had it delivered. Maybe - maybe he should look at it.

"Shit," he mutters. His hands shake a bit before he manages to get hold of it. He slides open the neat sleeve and finds the velvet presentation box inside.

A nice person would probably wait until their boyfriend was home to open such a thing. A nice person wouldn't have left it sitting like a punctuation mark after an argument. Neither Adam nor Nigel are very nice. Adam opens it. Then he screws his face up against the ferocious wave of unnameable emotion that rises in his chest at the sight of the ring.

It's beautiful, heavy platinum with a band of opals and sapphires that matches the scarf. And his eyes, he thinks. It's delicate without being feminine. Adam takes it out with careful fingers and hesitantly slides it onto his middle finger. Something shiny.

He presses both hands against his face. He's fucking this up. They're both fucking this up. He doesn't want to. He'll give Nigel until tomorrow to be - rightly - angry with Adam, and then he's tracking him down.

Fuck. He can't remember the last time he chased someone. It feels horrible and exhilarating all at once. God, he's a prick. He's a prick, and he's lonely. He wishes he'd done as Nigel said and kissed him goodbye. He touches the metal of the new ring to his lips instead.

He considers calling Nigel- texting him. Telling him he needs him. He knows he'd come. It's part of what makes it so tempting. It feels too pathetic. Even if he really is. He shakes his head at himself. Instead, he does something he hasn't done in a long time, and calls Margot.

She picks up after only two rings.

"Adam," she says, sounding surprised but pleased.

"Hi, Margot," he says. God, he even sounds miserable.

"Uh oh. Who pissed in your cereal?"

"I pissed in someone else's, what's new?"

"Oh, poor thing. Need a drink and a sympathetic ear?"

"God, yes."

"Your place or my place or some other place?"

"Mine?" Adam sees Nigel's card on the sideboard. "I'll get some dinner in?"

"Be there in an hour." She texts him her order before long. Adam orders it in and nervously waits. She descends within the hour in designer leather, holding two wine bottles. "Seemed only fair," she says, sweeping past him and regarding his flat. "God, I haven't been here since- well, since. It smelled of pot smoke then, too."

Adam shrugs. "It usually does."

Margot opens the cupboard and digs out two glasses. "So, tell me what's wrong?"

Adam opens a bottle, pours himself a glass, and takes a swig of wine. "Nigel ditched me."

Margot watches him for a moment, one brow quirking. "You were actually dating that guy?"

"Yes, darling, I was - am - was."

"What, for this whole time?" He glares at her. She laughs. "I'm sorry, I... didn't realise you did that."

"It's pretty much a first."

"Is that why you're-" she mimes throwing her wine back.

He just gives her a dirty look. "If you're not going to be helpful-"

Margot laughs and pours her own glass. "What can I do for you, lovely?"

Adam bites his lip. "I've fucked up. Well- he fucked up first but now I've really fucked up."

"Can we start from the beginning?" Margot drapes herself over his couch.

Adam thinks. Can he?

"He picked me up at a party and we got high and fucked like the world was ending."

"Well, that's a good start."

"Well- it was..." Adam bites his lip. "But I thought that's all it was and I... sort of ghosted on him the next morning."

Margot snorts. "That's about what I would have expected."

"He arrived at my door two days later."

This time, they share a speaking look. "Wow."

"Wow is right."

"I was mad, but I let him in anyway. The sex was phenomenal that time too."

"Seems unwise, but I've done ridiculous stuff for good sex too, I guess. So what next?"

"We just...saw a lot of one another." Adam shrugs. "We get along."

"Even though he stalked you."

"Honestly I think that helped."

Margot kicks at his ankle. "You're twisted."

"I know that." He sighs, thinking of holding Nigel down by the throat.

"So, you've been dating someone who puts up with your attitude for - how long?"

"A few months now."

"Jesus." She looks around and snags an ashtray, lights a cigarette. "Are we caught up to the present, then?"

Adam thinks. "He told me he loves me." He takes a swig of his wine.

Margot stares at him again. "Wow. Is, uh. Is that how he fucked up?"

"No." Adam rubs his face. "He... runs a shady security business."

Margot looks at him like "so?"

"It's not actually a security business." He jumps when the doorbell rings. "Shit, food." He goes to answer, retrieving them plates and cutlery.

Margot finally asks. "What is it? Or don't I want to know?"

"Drugs," Adam says with a sigh.

"So, that's how he screwed up?"

Adam laughs. "If only. No, that was when he walked out of here this morning and told me he'd be gone all week and refused to tell me anything else."

"Sounds drug related," Margot says wryly. "So how did you fuck up?"

"Locked myself in the bedroom and refused to talk to him." She bows her mouth and tilts her head: agreement. "Look, Margot, I know I'm terrible."

"I don't think you're terrible. I think you need a shrink. I get it, though. If Alana told me she was going away for a week and wouldn't tell me why... I guess I'd be mad too."

"Right?" Adam sighs and rubs his face.

Margot pouts at him before she starts to eat. "I don't think it's unreasonable of you to be mad at him."

"Me neither," Adam sighs. "I just miss him."

"Jesus." She looks shaken at the thought of him having a human emotion. He looks at the ring on his finger again. That makes Margot look too. Her eyes bug a bit.

"What's that?"

Adam extends his hand. "Something shiny."

Margot looks at it. Adam can tell from her expression that she has an idea how much it cost- a better idea than him anyway. "Is it a proposal?"

"If it is, I certainly didn't receive one."

"Well then it is a very, very nice gift, Adam."

He knew it. Fucking Nigel. He sighs heavily. "I think I'm having human emotions."

"I see that." Margot reaches out and pats his shoulder.

"I need the rest of this bottle of wine now."

"Good thing I brought two."

They sit and eat, and Adam tries to settle the nervous flutter in his stomach. He can't stop looking at the ring on his finger. He only calms down after most of a bottle of wine. Margot is watching him in her wide-eyed, unblinking kind of way. She's so still; so cool. Adam had been unnerved by her when he'd met her. Now her calmness is reassuring. He still isn't sure if she feels like a friend, but maybe that's his own issue. The fact she's here shows he's not as alone as he'd like to think. Or as loathed.

He feels pleasantly full and pleasantly drunk, after a while. The only thing missing is Nigel.

Margot happily splits the second bottle of wine with him, then calls for a cab. Adam goes down and watches her weave her way into the car, waving and making his own unsteady way back to his flat.

His head spins when he lies down. He holds his hand up to the ceiling and watches the lights from outside glint off the band on his finger. That's how he falls asleep: alone, with the world spinning slowly around him.

The next day, decidedly later than he normally might, he wakes up in the same way. He gets up unsteadily, blinking around. He's miserably hungover, which mutes everything else somewhat. Fuck. He's slept most of the day, as well, which was to be expected after the amount they drank- how late they were up. He drags himself into the shower reluctantly; forces himself similarly to open a window and change the sheets to get rid of the lingering funk of take out and cigarettes.

Once he stops moving, he stares at his phone. No missed calls or texts, of course. Jesus, was it a break up? No. He's just angry. Or busy. Both. Adam scowls at the screen, then dials a different number, one from his recent contacts that he's used once or twice. "This is Adam Towers, I need a car," he tells the voice on the other end.

"Yes, Mr. Towers, it will be ready immediately. The address?" says the voice on the other end. Accented.

Adam gives his building address and goes to grab his coat, winding the blue scarf carefully around his throat. He hears the car arrive not long after, and heads down to meet it. He'll try Nigel's house first, but he's concerned that he'll have to brave the warehouse instead. Either way, he's not stopping until he's tracked him down.

He gives the driver the address and spends the journey bouncing his knee. When he gets there, the house is dark against a murky charcoal sky, the gates locked. Adam tries the intercom but gets nothing, and rain starts to spot his shoulders as he waits. He's not here, Adam just knows. He gets back to the car.

"Can you take me to the warehouse?"

The driver looks impassive for a moment, but Adam waits it out. He sees him sigh, check his phone, and then pull away from the curb. Adam sits in the back and twists the ring on his middle finger. He's fairly confident Nigel will be irritated by him coming to find him. But he is feeling sufficiently dramatic about the whole fight, at this point; he needs to make a _gesture_. Besides, Nigel can't take a hint, why should he?

When they get there, a few other cars are in evidence, a man stationed on the door. Unusual, but useful for Adam, who doesn't have the pin code. Before he gets out, the driver stops him with a look in the rear view.

"Mr. Towers. I'll wait here for you."

"Thank you," Adam says. "I probably won't be long."

He makes his way to the guard on the door, doing his best impression of a man who's meant to be here. He recognises the guy, he thinks.

"I'm meant to meet Nigel here, but he's busy and can't come meet me," Adam says with his poshest accent and best kept-man smile. "Could you be a helpful fellow and key me in?"

"Nigel said no one was to come in," the bouncer says doubtfully.

"I'm not no one," Adam drawls. There's a non-zero chance this bouncer has seen him making out with Nigel in at least one of half a dozen clubs.

He gives Adam a meaningful look, and then sighs.

"Wait in the office. He's busy."

Adam smiles again. "Whatever you say."

He goes inside when the bouncer opens the door. He walks down the corridors and stops when he hears screaming echoing from deep within the building. It triggers a sudden wave of terror, but also a deeper fear - what if it's Nigel? What if he's hurt? He takes several, halting steps, and then runs.

He doesn't make it the whole way down the hallway before the screaming cuts off, and someone slams out of an open door. Adam takes it in all at once: Nigel, gun in hand, painted in red up to his elbows, snarling like the devil and dragging some unfortunate, half-stumbling man by the hair.

"You saw what fucking happened," he's hissing, hair in wild eyes, shirt sleeves cutting into the clench of his biceps with his tension, "want to be next? Want to see what happens when you _fuck with me?_ "

Adam whimpers, feet rooted to the floor. Nigel looks up at the sound. His finger flexes on the trigger before he looks at the guy at the end of the barrel. He shows him his teeth before he drops him and shakes off his hand like he's stained. When his eyes snap back to Adam, he doesn't quite look like he's come back to himself.

"Adam. What are you doing here?"

Adam feels like he's been plunged into a frozen river - just him, his too-tender flesh, and biting, cruel ice.

"Leaving," he gasps out, taking a hesitant step backwards.

Nigel takes a step after him. "Adam- it's all right, gorgeous, it's just business- Adam!"

Shaking his head, suddenly dizzy, he simply turns and flees. Back down the corridor, bursting through the doors to outside so fast the bouncer is knocked to one side. Adam doesn't stop even when he grabs for him, hands catching blue cashmere, just runs back to the car and slams the door shut behind him.

"Please drive," he begs, hoping the driver listens.

He looks out of the back screen as the car swerves into motion. Nigel emerges from the doors at a jog, skidding to a halt, still red stained and terrible to behold. Adam makes a wounded noise, eyes locked on his face even as it recedes.

"Mr. Towers?" the driver says gruffly.

"Don't slow down," Adam snaps.

He doesn't. Nigel fades from view. His plaintive expression follows Adam home; to his room, where he crams clothes into an overnight bag and runs back down to the car.

"Take me to Covent Garden," he says, narrowing his eyes at the back of the driver's head. Has he been in contact with Nigel?

"Okay." He glances at Adam in the rear-view again. Finally, when they're moving slowly through the evening traffic, he speaks again. "It scared you?"

Adam just stares. "Should it _not_?"

"It's a different world," the driver shrugs. His accent makes it sound overly relaxed.

"It's not my world," Adam protests, voice faint.

No real response to that.

"Where in Covent Garden are you going, Mr. Towers?"

"Drop me at the Opera House." Like hell he's making it easy for them to find him.

The driver nods. He seems to understand the suspicion he's under- but Adam doesn't blame him, not after seeing Nigel like that. "If you need the car, just call me, Mr. Towers."

Adam doesn't reply. He's too busy staring at his phone. It's ringing on its fifth unanswered call. He snarls at it and turns it off. _Now_ he fucking wants to talk.

He gets out of the car at the Opera House and then jumps a cab to the Savoy. Fuck it. He's not sitting in a fucking Travelodge waiting out this particular fucking shit storm.

He strolls up to the counter and requests a room, projecting his certainty that they'll accommodate him. When they ask for a card, he hands them Nigel's, smirking inwardly at the thought of him seeing the charge on his next statement.

Probably won't bat an eye, the flash fuck.

A porter comes to take his bag and show him to his room, wearing suit-tails. Inside the suite, he waits at the door for Adam to look around.

"Anything else you'll be needing tonight, Mr. Towers? A menu, an aperitif?"

"Yes, to both," Adam says lazily. He dismisses him after he's ordered his drink and takes a second to assess himself; take stock. He takes off his coat, hanging it carefully in the closet. His hands miss the softness of his scarf. He'd wanted to cry when he'd realized in the car that it was gone.

Fuck, who cares. That's not the worst thing he's lost tonight. His fingers curl around the ring on his finger, tugging it off and holding it uncertainly for a second. Then he tucks it in a side pocket of his bag.

His drink arrives. He orders dinner on the phone and takes a long shower when he's eaten, trying not to think. At least being here makes him feel like he's not alone. He is, though. He knows he is as soon as he hits his gorgeous, enormous bed, that being alone is going to be the hardest thing to go back to. Nigel had appeared in his life like magic. Where else in the world is he going to find someone who thinks he's remotely loveable? Where else is he going to find someone he loves as much as Nigel? No, he never said it. That doesn't mean he didn't know.

He slaps his arm over his eyes and breathes hard. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He goes to the minibar and crawls back into bed with a couple of bottles of vodka. He drinks them, and then the rest of the singles. When the booze has had a chance to do its job, Adam turns his phone on at midnight and reads his text messages. There's one from Margot, to his surprise, a short _Hope you're doing okay, Adam._

And then there's the ones that Nigel has sent him. They're short - Nigel is always sparing with the written word - but there are several. Variations on _Where are you?_ and _Are you all right?_ and eventually a single, plaintive-sounding _Why?_

Adam gives a shaky sigh and turns the phone off again. He doesn't think he should be answering when he's this drunk; liable to answer the phone when Nigel inevitably tries. He keeps drinking until he blacks out.

The next day at lunch, he orders a bottle of vodka up to his room and drinks it in the bath. He goes more slowly with this one, briefly concerned about passing out again and drowning himself. He waits until he's wrapped in a robe back in bed to do that. Eating hasn't really occurred to him, either, so it goes quickly.

He's awoken by the sound of a knock on the door. Groaning, he considers ignoring it. The second, more urgent knock rouses him more.

"Adam? Open the door, gorgeous."

At first, he thinks he's imagining it, but Nigel's voice sounds again.

"Adam, I'm worried about you darling. Can you open up?"

The only reason Adam forces himself to his feet is so Nigel will stop knocking. He goes to the door on unsteady feet, pausing with his hand on the latch. "How did you find me?"

"I called every hotel in Covent Garden and told them my credit card information had been stolen and I needed to provide them with a new number."

Adam sighs against the door frame.

"I'm glad to see you're spoiling yourself, Adam, I really am," Nigel continues, "but I'm worried about you now, so do me a favour and open up. Please." Adam closes his eyes and opens the door. "Adam..." Nigel steps into the doorway and touches his shoulders with light hands.

"Please don't touch me," Adam grits. He hates the way it makes Nigel's mouth pull; the way he pulls back like it physically pains him.

"Adam..." He's wearing Adam's scarf. He takes it off and drapes it gently around Adam's neck, then steps away. Adam pulls it off immediately but can't quite bring himself to fling it away in disgust, just wringing it in his hands.

"Is that the kind of man you fucking are?" he says, eventually.

"I thought you knew the answer to that," Nigel says softly.

"I'd hoped I was wrong. That you had _some_ fucking morals."

Nigel bares his teeth. He's got that feline stillness again that Adam has seen in him before, when he's anticipating anger. It's terrifying.

"You have no idea what you walked into."

"I walked in on you behaving like a fucking animal, what else is there to grasp?"

"They were invited there to buy me out of the business," Nigel growls. "And they decided it would be easier to carve me out of the business. Am I not allowed to defend myself?"

Adam stops. He steals a look at Nigel's face again.

"Is that what I saw? Because you looked like you were fucking possessed. Like you were enjoying it."

Nigel shifts uncomfortably.

"Can I close the door? Let me explain, please." He holds his hands up. "Darling, if you want me to leave at any point, I will."

Adam knows it's a bad idea, but it's a worse idea to get kicked out of the Savoy for shouting in a hallway. He shuffles away from the door. Nigel closes it slowly behind him and looks around. He gives Adam a little smile.

"Sit down, sweetheart, you look like you're going to fall over."

"I am extremely drunk," Adam tells him. "And extremely out of patience. Don't smile at me. Explain."

"All right." Nigel sighs. "As it sounds. I've been trying to buy myself out of my share of the business. In business arrangements... things occasionally get unpleasant."

"I know a little bit about business," Adam snarls. "Murder is not usually involved."

Nigel grinds his teeth a bit, closing his eyes like he's not sure what to say.

"You knew what I was when we met. If you're looking for an excuse, darling, that's fine- but don't pretend the sanctity of life is your chief concern." He flicks his hair back from his face. "No one died the other night. I was attacked and felt it necessary to make an example of the men who wronged me. You can decide for yourself whether it would have been more noble by your standards to have let them bury me."

Adam's face falls, entirely without his permission. The thought of Nigel dead - a world without him - is enough to make his stomach turn.

Nigel watches him, and all the fierceness evaporates from his face.

"I'm not a good man, Adam, but I'm trying. When I came here I promised I wouldn't be the same person I was back home. I'm keeping my promise."

"I'm not a good man at all," Adam tells his fists, clenched in front of him. He sits down in a low chair.

Nigel watches him but doesn't move.

"If the idea of violence repels you, you're doing better than me."

"Am I, though? I have no real friends-" one, maybe- "and my _boyfriend_ hurts people, but it's just business; and I'm cruel to everyone I meet, and maybe I'm not breaking their bones, but-"

"Hey…" Nigel kneels down in front of him, hesitant to touch but visibly fighting the urge. "Adam, you're perfect. Exactly as you are."

He shakes his head miserably.

"I'm- all I've ever done is use people for what I want."

"What if they want to be used?" Nigel murmurs.

Adam bites his lip. He feels flooded, waterlogged with grief at the thought of this being over.

"You scared me," he whispers.

"I know," Nigel murmurs. "I had a feeling this one might go bad, it's why I said I needed not to see you."

"Yeah, but you can't just- you should have told me! You can't keep the fact that you might fucking die a secret from me!" Adam hates how his voice breaks. "What would I have done?"

His hands are shaking. Nigel reaches out to touch them, thumb brushing over the backs of his fingers.

"You were wearing it the other day," he murmurs.

"It's in my bag," Adam says, voice hoarse.

Nigel doesn't reply, but he keeps holding Adam's hands.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm still trying to sell out. I'll keep trying. I won't disappear again if you won't." Adam can't talk for a second. Nigel squeezes his hands gently. "I am an animal. I don't want to be, though. I'm tired of losing things I care about."

Adam finally meets his eyes. He looks like shit, tired and bruised. "Have you slept at all?" he blurts.

"I've been looking for you," Nigel mutters.

"I couldn't have been that hard to find." He didn't try too hard. He knows it was intentional, no matter how angry he was. Nigel gives him a look. Adam sighs. "See, I'm a fucking... wanker."

"You wanted to make me pay," Nigel murmurs. "I wanted to give you what you wanted." So, he'd found him quickly. And waited. "I only ever want to give you what you want."

It makes Adam's chest tight. He rubs his eyes miserably.

"You've killed people."

"Not since I moved here. I promise." He gives Adam a baleful look. Adam can't believe that makes him feel better. It shouldn't. But it does.

"Oh, well if you haven't killed anyone _recently_..." he needles, even so.

Nigel's jaw tightens.

"Be cruel if you like."

Adam bites his lip.

"That's the problem, darling, I don't really want to." He sees it then. Two people who didn't want to change- or didn't have an excuse to change- until they had one another. "Nigel," he sighs.

"Adam." He's studying him intently, silver hair falling into his eyes.

Adam bites his lip. "The thing is... I'm in love with you."

Nigel swallows. He's quiet, like he's afraid of the 'but' that lies in wait.

"That's it," Adam says. "That's the thing. I don't know what to do, because that's all I can think about."

"I love you," Nigel says, quickly. His voice sounds faint. "I'm sorry that I've- done this to you."

"I hate that I'm scared now," Adam whispers.

Nigel drops his gaze. He nods shakily. "Me too." He runs a hand over his face. "Can I - touch you?"

Adam nods. Nigel reaches out and cups his cheek, thumb petting over his skin. The fierce wave of need Adam feels triggers a whimper. He wipes his eyes fiercely.

"Fuck."

Nigel catches a tear with his thumb, lips parting on a breath.

"Adam... please don't be afraid. Please." He handles him down gently into his lap, folding him up in his arms.

Adam breathes out in a shaky rush. His hands twist into Nigel's jacket. He pushes his face into his neck and tries to calm down. Nigel doesn't move, just lays his cheek against Adam's head. Even now he seems like he's not used to his own carefulness. Adam can only be grateful for it.

Something untwists in his chest. He's drunk, and exhausted, and desperately overwrought. When Nigel nudges him up and pulls him over to the bed, pulling back the duvet and tucking him in, he isn't sure what to do with all the grateful sadness inside him. He buries his face in the pillow and lets out one sobbing breath.

Nigel sits on the edge of the bed and doesn't make any move to go anywhere else, hand soothing down from Adam's hair to his waist.

"It's all right, gorgeous. Just get some sleep."

Nigel rubbing his back is about the only thing that could settle him right now. He grabs for his other hand and sighs when Nigel pulls away to shove off his jacket and shoes; carefully brackets up against his back on top of the covers.

"It's okay," he reiterates softly, shushing him. "You're with me, love."

By the time Adam falls asleep, his pillow has soaked up a few more tears, but he doesn't move an inch.


	6. Chapter 6

Even after Adam falls into a hiccupping, restless sleep, Nigel doesn't relax. His mind won't stop turning over Adam's tearful words. He feels each one like an individual stab into a tender place. He thinks of Gabi, staring him down over the barrel of a gun. Her hatred and Adam's fear are tines on the same fork, stuck into his chest by his own fucking hand. He has to get out of this life or he'll bleed out, from tiny cuts from the people he loves.

Or, he thinks as he winces on a shift, much more literal fucking wounds. He hopes his bruises have a chance to fade before Adam sees them. He picks his phone out of his pocket and texts Darko.

_Found him_.

Darko takes a moment to reply _._

_Are you coming back?_

_Fuck no._

_Ever?_

Nigel thinks about it. He noses against Adam's shoulder and savours his sleepy hum.

_Never_.

His phone is silent for a few minutes, then buzzes again.

_Give me three days_ , the message says. _I can have the money to buy you out_.

Nigel sighs _._

_I owe you._

_You already owed me. But I owe you too._

_Thank you._ He turns the phone off after that. He can't think about it anymore.

The idea he can get out releases a bit of the tension from him, though. Listening to Adam's breaths, he finally closes his eyes.

Even with his injuries, he doesn't sleep as long as Adam. First he wakes at midnight; goes down to let the desk know he'll be staying, and to charge it to his tab. He smokes a cigarette outside and talks idly to the doorman, then goes back up to Adam; sleeps a while longer and wakes at dawn with his body aching and his mouth dry. Fuck it. He eases back out of bed and calls down to the concierge for some painkillers. He orders breakfast too, a bit of all sorts, in case Adam is feeling delicate- though hopefully he won't be so bad, after twelve hours of solid sleep. Then he gets back in bed: he'll take all the closeness he can get before Adam pushes him away.

He dozes until he feels Adam stir against him. The first thing he hears is a sigh.

"You really are here."

That doesn't sound so bad.

"Yes, darling. For as long as you want me."

Adam makes a small noise and wriggles to get out from under the covers. He stumbles to the bathroom and Nigel hears water running. He sits up, anticipating kickback for something- anything. He's still replaying Adam's voice tiredly stating, "I'm in love with you." He feels like it's burrowed under his skin, pressing against his bruises from the inside out.

He takes more painkillers and pours Adam some coffee. Then he claims one of the room's armchairs for his own. Being in the bed with Adam can only be distracting- or malign him. He hears the shower running and taps his foot, nervously waiting it out. Life without Adam doesn't bear thinking about. He just has to find a way to express that.

Finally, Adam emerges from the bathroom, looking flush and somehow still tired.

"Coffee and breakfast," Nigel murmurs.

Adam comes to take the cup with a mumble of thanks. He sips, sighs, staying close. He's wearing the hotel robe wrapped tight around his waist, and he curls into the matching chair. Nigel doesn't say anything, waiting, sipping his own coffee. Adam's eyes never leave him.

"Want to talk?" Nigel murmurs, eventually.

"Yes," Adam nods slowly, looking fragile. Might be a hangover. Might not.

"Want some aspirin?" Nigel asks, in the same tone.

"God yes." Nigel chucks him the bottle. Adam swallows some down with a mouthful of coffee and closes his eyes for a moment. "Fucking vodka."

Nigel wordlessly agrees.

"You still look gorgeous, though," he murmurs.

Adam gives him a look over, considering annoyance, then sighs.

"You look like you lost a fight."

"You should see the other guy," Nigel says, not quite pleased with himself.

"No thanks. Go take a shower," Adam orders him.

Nigel goes, caught between shamefaced and hopeful: Adam can't be that scared of him. If he'll only just talk about it. He showers, brushes his teeth and heads back out to where Adam has spread food out on the dining table and is picking at a plate.

"Any good?" Nigel smiles.

"Staying down so far," Adam mumbles.

"I was inquiring after the quality, but that's good too."

"It's the Savoy," Adam drawls. "Of course it's good."

"Yes dear," Nigel says dryly. Trust his boy to be a posh little brat. Trust him to fucking love it.

He sits down close to him and nudges him with his bare toes. "You look a bit brighter."

"Do I?"

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"How I look brighter?"

"I would love to talk about that," Nigel admits. "But also, there are other things."

Adam sighs. He nods.

"Tell me what you want me to know, Nigel."

"I would sooner slit my own throat than hurt you, Adam. Please tell me you know that."

Adam sighs. "I know."

"But you're still afraid of me."

"I'm... no. I'm afraid of who I am for loving you regardless."

"Can I. Jesus, Adam. What am I meant to do to help?"

"Tell me you won't do it again. Mean it."

"Not unless I'm protecting you. Then all bets are off, Princess."

Adam levels him with his gaze. "I don't require you to be willing to kill for me."

"And yet I am. To kill for you, to die for you, it's your call."

"If you die for me, I will resurrect you and kill you myself."

"Live for you, then." Nigel reaches for his hand. "Where's my ring, darling?"

"I thought it was my ring," Adam snarks. He points to his bag.

Nigel goes to retrieve it, feeling calmer as soon as he feels the metal touch his skin. He takes it to Adam, kneeling down in front of his chair and waiting for Adam's hand.

"May I give it to you properly then?"

Adam sets his chin like he's going to be defiant, but then he nods. Nigel slides the band back on to Adam's middle finger. He bends his head and kisses it. With a tired look of resignation, Adam slides his hand out of his grasp and up into his hair with a sigh.

"God, I missed you. It's been what, three days? And I fucking missed you."

Nigel closes his eyes and lets him tug.

"I missed you too. So much." Adam's fingers tighten and loosen rhythmically. Nigel lays his forehead against his knee. "I'm sorry, Adam."

"You said so already, you terror."

"It's still true. Tell me how to make it better. Short term and long term."

"Quit your fucking job. Short term and long term."

"Already done," Nigel murmurs.

"Really? What about the...buyers not working out?"

"Darko is going to do it."

That gets Adam's attention. "Really?"

"Really." Nigel noses at the bare inside of his knee gently, then kisses the warm skin. Adam tugs on his hair again. "You love me," Nigel murmurs, almost wonderingly.

"Like a fucking sap." Adam's voice isn't as dry as he probably intends. Nigel hides his smile against his skin. He stays there for a long time, feeling Adam's fingers draw slow through his hair, just listening to his breaths. He'll sit at his boy's feet forever if he needs to. If he's allowed.

"Nigel," Adam says eventually, "tell me again."

"I love you, Adam," he says promptly.

Adam's eyes go soft. He nods. "I love you too. Now come up here."

Nigel stands; leans and cups Adam's cheeks. Seeing his eyes pointed up at him, pale blue and bottomless, is enough to calm him. He takes the kiss that's being offered. Adam touches his collarbones and sighs. Nigel keeps the sweeping touch of their lips soft and slow, and Adam's arms wind around his neck. He can feel him relaxing. His relief is warm and light. Even as he kisses him, he's thinking of how he can get him even closer, he doesn't want to push him though; to take what he hasn't earned. He'll let Adam take the lead.

Adam stands eventually, keeping his arms around Nigel as they straighten, pulling back and meeting his eyes again. He looks young and unsure; in love and lost with it.

Nigel sighs and cups his face again, drawing him in, their foreheads together. "Want to stay here a few more days? Take a holiday?"

Adam hesitates, then nods.

"You're staying with me, right?"

"Always."

Adam nods. He tucks himself under Nigel's chin.

"Good. Can we go back to sleep for a while?"

"May I share the duvet this time?" Nigel asks hopefully.

Adam huffs softly, pushing him toward the mattress.

"I hardly made you sleep on the floor like a dog."

"I just want to feel your skin," Nigel murmurs.

Adam undoes the sash on his robe and drops it on the floor.

"Go nuts."

Nigel tackles him gently to the bed, shaking off his own robe as he climbs on top. The tangle of their thighs and fit of their hips is enough. Adam is smooth and pale beneath him and Nigel is unbelievably grateful. He wraps him up tight in an embrace, cocooning them both in the soft duvet. His lips find the smooth underside of Adam's chin.

His arms wrap around Nigel's back again. He sighs slowly.

"Mmm. S'nice, darling."

Nigel hums in agreement. He inhales Adam's scent and buries himself in it as he drifts off.

 

He wakes late in the afternoon to the feeling of Adam stroking over one of his bruises. "Ow," he grumbles.

Adam looks worried. "Should you see a doctor?"

"And tell them what?" He doesn't move away from the next touch.

"You got mugged? I dunno."

Nigel's lip curls. Adam smirks.

"I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have." He touches his ribs and Nigel winces.

"I think this is going to be a very lazy holiday," he sighs.

"Best kind. Jesus, your ribs look awful, are they broken?"

"Probably not?" Nigel isn't so sure.

Adam sighs again heavily.

"Darling, I like you better in one piece."

"Likewise, I assure you."

Adam nuzzles his face into Nigel's neck. "Does this hurt?"

"No, angel." It's the best thing he's ever felt.

"Good, because I wanted to do it when I woke up."

Nigel strokes his hair slowly. "Whatever you want."

"I want a lot of things."

"You can have all of them."

Adam sighs and stretches. "I want you to get me off."

"How?" Nigel's stomach jerks with warmth. Adam just raises his brows, then smiles when Nigel noses at him. "With my mouth? My hands?"

"Mm, I think I ought to have both, don't you?" Fuck, Nigel loves when Adam gets snarky.

"Sounds fair." He gestures for him to come closer. Adam wriggles, head pillowed on his arm, letting Nigel pull him into a lazy kiss, growing in intent as Adam's hands wander. Sometimes it hurts, but he doesn't complain. He grabs at Adam's ass gently and squeezes. "Come on gorgeous, get on top of me."

He leaves his hands there even as he moves: Adam's ass is like the eighth wonder of the world. It makes it easier to steer him up to straddle his chest too, so he can look up at the angular lines of his narrow body and see him looking down at him.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Adam licks his lips. "You sure this doesn't hurt?"

"I'm sure. You can hurt me as much as you see fit, anyway." _You always do._

He sees the struggle on Adam's face - the horror at seeing Nigel bruised and beaten, but still the desire to mark him himself. He helps him out by wrapping a hand around his cock and starting to slowly stroke him. Adam's not fully hard yet, but he fills out quickly. Nigel sucks open mouthed at the base of his cock to make him sigh as he works his fingers over the head. He wants to hear Adam moan. He wants to give him everything he wants.

The sound of Adam's breathing speeding up is like music to him. He draws him into his mouth and cups Adam's hips, giving a gentle tug. His focus narrows sharply. He's not exactly comfortable, but he'd endure far worse to feel this close to Adam; to feel his fingers twist into his hair as he arches into his mouth. He hopes he'll use him as he wants.

When he looks up, Adam's head is back, his body craned toward their single point of contact.

"Nigel... fuck, suck me."

Nigel increases the suction, swirling his tongue, sighing when Adam moans softly, rocking forward with his knees. Nigel encourages it with pressure from his fingers. It doesn't take much to get him fucking his mouth, caving his shoulders and tipping his chin down to watch. His hands smooth over Nigel's cheeks to feel himself. He pulls back once to stroke the head of his cock over Nigel's lower lip, baring his teeth.

"Fucking gorgeous," he says, almost unhappily, as he pushes back in with a sigh.

Nigel feels the same, appreciation so sharp it pains him. He grips at Adam's narrow waist; chokes on him and doesn't let him pull back. He wants to. He wants to take everything he gives him, even when it's too much. Maybe especially then.

Adam's breathing hard before long, one hand clutching the headboard for balance as he rocks down, all tell-tale whimpers and moans. Nigel does push him back then, gently, smiling when he scowls.

"Wait."

"Wait?" Adam whines.

"Turn around." Nigel kisses the inside of his thigh gently. "Please." Adam bites his plush lower lip. Nigel curls a hand around him, stroking him slowly for a moment. "Please," he repeats.

Adam sighs and eases up, doing as he's told. Nigel steadies him with a hand on his waist.

When Adam's settled, Nigel immediately leans up to lick between his cheeks, curling a hand back around his cock.

Adam makes another whimpering noise.

"Oh! Fuck-" he arches down for his tongue, gasping when Nigel sucks over his taint and thumbs him wider to press in with the tip. His hands fall on either side of his knees as he curls down and pushes into it.

Nigel strokes him as best he can from the angle. He's so impatient; wants to do everything all at once. He doesn't think Adam is any less so, back arching, one hand slipping back into Nigel's hair as he starts to roll his hips with more urgency. Nigel breaches him with his thumb and licks around the stretched skin.

"Fuck- fuck- Nigel-" Adam squirms between the points of contact with a whine.

Nigel makes a sound deep in his throat. He feels Adam's other hand wrap around himself. There's no slowing down after that. Nigel keeps his hand curled loosely around the base of his cock, fingers just teasing as he focuses the motions of his tongue. Adam curls his fingers tighter in Nigel's hair and cries out. He's stroking himself fast now, hips twitching as he edges closer. Nigel closes his eyes and just listens to him. He's swearing, gasping, breathing his name. It's all he ever wants to hear again. The clench and release of his body as he comes is all he needs to feel.

It doesn't take long. Adam pulls his hair and gasps while he comes in hot strings against Nigel's throat. Nigel keeps his thumb moving, milking it out of him with squeezes of the other.

" _Fuuuck_ \- Nigel..." Adam clenches and another pulse of come drips into Nigel's chest. " Fuck!"

"My darling," Nigel whispers against his skin.

Adam shivers, sliding back so Nigel can sit up; turn and tug him into his lap to curl his arms around him. He runs his fingers through the splash of come on Nigel's chest, shining eyes meeting Nigel's.

"Mine," he murmurs, smearing it slowly. Nigel agrees wholeheartedly.

"Yours in every way, love." He sighs when Adam kisses him. His body hurts, and now it's the special brand of tuned-in it always is for Adam. It's enough to make him lightheaded.

Adam is still working his mess into the hair on his chest. He bites at Nigel's lower lip, then soothes it with his tongue.

"Should I let you come?" he murmurs, with a few sweet kisses. Just the tone of his voice makes Nigel shiver.

"Whatever you like, darling."

"I believe that," Adam says softly.

Nigel nods. His throat gets a bit tight, suddenly.

"Good. I mean it."

He's rewarded with more kisses; Adam's hips rocking slowly even though he has to be sensitive. Nigel touches him, because he can't not. He's so grateful to be allowed. He threads his hands through Adam's curls.

Adam hums and nips at his lip again gently.

"Jerk yourself off for me. Cover me in it."

"Baby, anything." Nigel rolls them to cradle Adam in the pillows, kneels next to him, one hand on his chest, over his heart.

Adam pats his own chest. "Here. Kneel over me, let me watch."

Nigel shifts, barely wincing. He's so hard he can't feel anything else. Adam bites his lip at the sight.

"God, darling. Just from getting me off."

"Of course," Nigel murmurs. "That's all I need."

"Fuck," Adam groans softly through his teeth. "Jesus, show me."

He does, making a loose fist, already wet at the tip when his foreskin slides back. He feels Adam arch beneath him like he's receiving feedback from the touch.

"God, you're so gorgeous. Stroke for me. I know you like it fast but go slow for me first, all right darling?"

"I'll try." He does, even though his thighs are already shaking. Adam watches his face like he's about to start spouting secrets. Instead, he sets his jaw and groans. Maybe it's the same thing to Adam. "You are so perfect," he grits through his teeth.

Adam touches his thighs, hands reverent. "Not quite."

"To me you are." Nigel speeds up his fist, eyes falling shut.

"Hey, did I say you could go faster?" Adam tuts.

"Adam," Nigel slows down again.

"You said you'd try."

He did. He will. His breath shakes, the slide of his hand getting slick as he pulls. He paces himself with Adam's own breaths. It's not enough, it's more than enough. He shifts his hips and tightens his hand as his resolve weakens. He imagines being inside Adam as he squeezes.

"How's it feel, darling?" Adam murmurs.

"Amazing," he grits.

"Yeah? Looks good too. Wait- I want to." He raises his hands; knocks Nigel's away and wraps his around his cock tight, thumbs under the head. Nigel groans helplessly. "Move," Adam murmurs. Nigel grips his wrists to hold him steady and does as he's told. He fucks into Adam's fists with his lips peeled back into a snarl. He sees Adam's eyes go heavy lidded, tongue swiping over his lips.

"Fuck- fuck. Okay. Whenever you're ready now, baby."

Nigel is beyond ready. He clenches his eyes shut when it starts, gut-kicked by the slick, obscene sounds of his cock slipping in and out of Adam's fingers, thighs and stomach trembling as he shoots his load over Adam's heaving chest. It slicks his skin like strings of silk. Nigel groans under his breath while Adam squeezes and strokes the last of it out of him. He's breathing hard.

"Fuck," he says, eloquently. Then he focuses on Adam. "I love you."

Adam bites his lip, hands slipping up his chest, tracking mess. He pulls Nigel down into a slow kiss.

"I love you, too."

They roll together, filthy and craving each other's touch. Nigel feels stark relief at the mental comparison from last night and today. This is what he wants. Forever.

"Adam." He pushes his face into his neck. Adam strokes his hair. Nigel laces their fingers together and swallows his words, just kissing Adam's shoulder gently. "I missed you."

Adam kisses his forehead.

"I missed you too. I've gotten used to having you in my bed. And everywhere else."

"Likewise." Nigel is still fighting back the impulse to tell Adam just how long he wants to be in his bed for. He reaches for his hand again, kisses the knuckles. The ring there. Adam sighs and cups Nigel's cheek.

"Did you ever inquire about any of those flats you wanted to see?"

"I have the listing agents' names for a few, yes," Nigel says slowly.

Adam nods, stretching, tangling their legs.

"We should go see some."

"On your holiday?"

"Whenever."

Nigel pushes into the hand still on his cheek.

"All right, let's go tomorrow. I need to know which you like best."

"Oh yeah?" Adam grins.

"Naturally."

"Naturally." Adam strokes his cheek. He smiles down at him. "Nigel, do you want me to move in?"

Nigel swallows a few times, quickly.

"Why, do you want to?"

"Answering questions with questions, are we?" Adam teases.

"I don't know, _are we_?" Nigel lifts his upper lip in a gentle snarl; Adam leans down to bite it, equally gently.

"I want to live with you," he whispers into Nigel's mouth. He can't help the way he squeezes him in answer.

"Are you sure? You said it yourself: I'm an animal."

"You're a stray. If I send you away, you just come back."

"Still an animal."

"My animal. I'll keep you on a leash if I must."

Another shot of lazy heat. Nigel bites at the underside of his jaw.

"Your guard dog."

Adam tips his head back and lets it continue for a moment. Nigel sighs to feel the vibrations in his throat - he's laughing.

"I guess you've proved that old dogs can learn new tricks, Nigel."

"Who are you calling old, you little fuck."

More laughter. Nigel cuts it off with another kiss. Adam wants to live with him. Jesus. He thought when he knocked on this door that he'd be losing everything, and instead he's getting everything he could ever want. Adam, curled on top of him like a big cat, self-satisfied and proud- and a future that might not repeat itself.

Nigel pulls back to look at him and smiles. It might not be a very nice smile, but he knows Adam understands.

"We might need somewhere with less ugly chairs."

"We'll pick them out together, then." Adam beams like he can't help it. He looks like a Sistine Chapel angel. Nigel smiles a bit more softly.

"Sounds good."

With a pleased sound, Adam drapes down over Nigel's chest again, letting him fold his arms around him and settle down. Later he'll coax him into the shower again. For now, he's happy to drift in his warmth.

 

Nigel loses his patience about three hours into flat hunting, but watching Adam perform for the estate agent is amusing enough to get him through the rest of the day. In the end, he decides to go with the converted top floor of a building housing a tailor shop on the street level, with tantalizingly deserted storage rooms on the floor in between. Adam makes five snarky comments about privacy as Nigel signs the papers, but Nigel ignores them all.

"Darling, you'll be glad of it, trust me."

The estate agent, thrilled with Nigel's mentions of window and door upgrades, nods and agrees enthusiastically, if somewhat cluelessly. Nigel looks at Adam before he signs the last page.

"Sure? You like it?"

Adam laughs. "I'm sure, are you?"

"Yes. You know I'll be there too, right? Full time?"

"I had gotten that impression, yes. Sign it."

Nigel does. He turns to Adam, smile betraying his nervousness. His stomach feels full of helium. Adam smiles back and cups his cheeks.

"Get it together, darling."

The estate agent pretends to be blind and deaf again, as well he should with how much money Nigel just signed over. When Nigel eventually tears away from Adam to talk finalities with him, he hands Nigel the keys. Nigel can't help his smile.

 

Buying the flat is great- fine. Selling his house: also fine. Moving is another matter altogether- not his limited range of belongings, but fucking Adam's. Adam owns a thousand books and refuses to get rid of a single one. Which would be all good and well if they had bookcases. Adam makes Nigel go to IKEA, where several mothers usher children away from him while he swears at the collection system. Adam smirks the entire time.

They make it out alive with two bookcases, a wardrobe, and a potted plant Adam insists on- along with the requisite crockery and essentials two adult men might need in a home without another stick of furniture in it. Never mind that neither of them cook.

"We can try," Adam says, when Nigel points it out. "We can't just live off pot and takeout."

"Can we hire someone to come in?" Nigel says lazily, playing with his hair.

"I don't know about you but having someone turn up at my house every night sounds a bit crap, to be honest."

Nigel thinks it over.

"They could prep things for the week."

"Darling, don't you want to learn to cook for me?" Adam pouts. Damn him. Nigel can't resist that. "We could pretend to be real people," Adam continues softly.

"Just for you," Nigel pretends to scowl.

Adam gives him a wide smile.

"I bet you'll be good at it," he soothes.

Nigel sighs and wraps an arm around him.

"We'll see, Princess."

"In the meantime," Adam drawls, "let's smoke up and order a pizza."

They go back to the flat, still a labyrinth of boxes and suitcases, and do just that. Adam at least owned the sofa and the mattress from his flat- not the frame, they've still to find one they can agree on- and they sit on the former now, Nigel's ridiculous, oversized TV balanced precariously on a packing crate. Nigel is ready to call an interior decorator again, if only to see Adam confound them.

"What do you think, darling?" He nudges him. "Get some paint in here. Your fucking plant can go over there. We should get another couch if we want- I don't know. Company."

"We'll have to make friends first."

"I don't know, you've got Magda-"

"Margot."

"Her- and I've got." He pauses. "Shit. Darko?"

"No, he hates me," Adam corrects.

"He doesn't hate you. He hates me. I've cost him a lot of money recently."

"So, his housewarming present will be delayed?"

"His housewarming present was letting me out of a partnership we built together." Nigel strokes Adam's hair while he sighs.

"Right." He tilts his chin up and gives Nigel an examining onceover. "We should have him over."

"Perhaps we should. Not today," Nigel pulls him down into the cushions.

Adam yelps a bit but he's grinning. "Plotting again, Mister Lupei?"

"Is it plotting if my intentions are transparent?"

"Um, yes. It still is."

"Then yes, I'm plotting."

"To do what? Take advantage of my kind nature?"

"To christen our new apartment by making you come, I was thinking."

"Oh. Well. Carry on, I suppose."

Nigel pulls back. "Well, if you don't feel like it..."

Adam grabs a handful of his shirt.

"Fuck no you don't."

Nigel chuckles. He leans down and kisses him deep and long.

"Faerie prince, so demanding."

"Faerie prince gave you your wish, and now he wants his due." Adam grins.

"Take me, use me, enjoy me," Nigel smirks.

Adam hums and arches beneath him.

"Very tempting."

"You know I like fucking you on this sofa..."

"Mm, I know you do." He tips his chin up while Nigel kisses up his throat.

"I'm glad we kept it."

"I know you are."

"Are you planning on saying anything else?" Nigel snarks, nipping his chin.

Adam thinks, humming.

"How about 'go down on me'?"

"I'm in favour," Nigel sighs.

"Oh good. Me too." He smirks down at Nigel as he starts to fiddle with their clothing.

"Absolutely fucking insufferable, darling," Nigel praises, stripping his jeans down in a practised motion.

"You love it."

"I do. I love you. Take your shirt off."

He still likes seeing Adam blush when he says it.

"Nigel," he protests at his grin, wriggling out of his top.

Nigel brushes his fingers over his smooth chest. His mouth follows swiftly, tongue whirling over one nipple and then the other. Adam arches immediately.

"Oh- s'nice-"

"Good." He sucks gently to make him squirm. His tongue traces down over the bumps of his ribs.

Adam smooths his hand into Nigel's hair and is just a little forceful with his steering. Forceful enough to make his eyes water. Nigel is entirely okay with it. He drags his lips down the smooth skin, all the way to Adam's waistband. He tugs his boxers off easily and smiles at Adam's little whine. He wishes absently for lace, instead, but the warm scent of Adam's skin is good enough.

His tongue sweeps over the flat dip of his hips and between his yielding thighs. Adam lets them fall loose. It's enough to stir a groan out of Nigel, the sight of his cock filling out under the attention, all his pale and pink skin on show. He licks the underside of him slowly while Adam pets his hair, shifting restlessly.

When Nigel guides him into his mouth with his hand, he hisses softly. He's plump and flush and feels velvety on Nigel's tongue. He fills out the rest of the way with a few long sucks; tightens his grip in Nigel's hair and groans low under the attention.

Nigel works his mouth steadily, watching Adam's face from below his lashes. He's stunning as ever. Nigel is filled with a clawing, hungry love. He exercises it with bruising touches; cheeks hollowed, and eyes shut.

No matter how tightly his hands grip, Adam doesn't complain. If anything, he arches into it. His very breath sounds ragged and pleading.

"Nigel- more, fuck-"

Nigel pulls off to breathe.

"Tell me what you want, gorgeous."

"Fuck, I want everything." Nigel nods once, then pushes his knees up against his chest. He moves his mouth farther down. "Oh shit," Adam breathes, "fffuck-"

Nigel licks against him again and again until he's dripping. And panting. Swearing a bit, too. Eventually, he gives a yank on Nigel's hair. Nigel glances up. "Enough?"

"Yeah- yeah."

There's a bottle of lube tucked under the couch because the past few months have taught them several lessons about being prepared. Nigel retrieves it now; pours a liberal amount onto his hands and wraps one around his cock. The other presses down and steadily into Adam. He arches to take his fingers, two straight off, grabbing for his hair. Nigel groans softly and squeezes himself.

"Nigel- hurry up," Adam breathes.

Nigel thrusts his fingers in answer. He twists his wrist; adds more lube to open him up until Adam tugs again.

"Now."

"Darling, I don't want to be rough-"

"I do. Now, Nigel."

"If there's-"

"There won't be, put your cock in me." He wraps his legs around his back and tugs.

"Jesus," Nigel groans, and holds him back long enough to line up. Adam pulls him in with one forceful tug. They both swear simultaneously, in two languages.

Adam wraps his arms around his neck with a sigh.

"Good, now move."

Nigel does, with enthusiasm. He has everything he needs right here. Adam feels, tastes, sounds incredible. He buries his nose in the junction of his shoulder as he rocks into his body.

"My darling," he groans softly.

"Yeah, fuck, you're so good. Give it me," Adam bites his jaw gently.

Nigel pushes into him steadily. They're a tangle of limbs and panting moans. It's desperate and perfect. Nigel curls his hand into Adam's hair and kisses his jaw.

"I love you," he tells him again, voice gravelly.

"I love you too, Nigel." Then he lets his head fall back as Nigel shifts his angle slightly. "Oh _fuck_ , yes, fuck-" His face flushes nearly as red as his bitten lips. Nigel can't get enough of the way he rocks his hips up into his thrusts.

"I want to feel you come," he growls in his ear.

"Then don't stop."

"I won't, I never will."

Nigel fucks him faster at the thought. His fingers bite in again. Adam gasps and tips his head back. They're beyond pain or hesitation and into pure need. Nigel wraps his legs tighter around his middle and bridges up.

"Fuck- Nigel, close-"

Nigel mouths at his jaw, groaning softly. Adam wraps a hand around himself. His hand moves frantically, bumping against Nigel's stomach. Nigel swears into his shoulder, sweat misting his shoulders.

"My darling, my love," he repeats.

"Yes- fuck- close-" He gasps against Nigel's temple. He's clenching up, hips stuttering.

Nigel makes a ragged noise as he feels him come, so good his own senses go white. His orgasm goes off like a fire drill. He feels Adam's nails bite in.

They stay wrapped around one another for a long time when he eventually stills.

"Nigel," Adam whispers.

"Mm." He gives him a gentle squeeze.

"Nigel, I know you're sick of hearing it by now but- I love you."

"Fuck. Never," Nigel sighs and noses at him. "I love you too." Adam strokes his back. He's smiling when Nigel pulls back to look at him. It makes his chest seize. "I mean it, Adam. I've been- I've been a bad person. I've been unforgivably cruel to people I love. I don't ever want to be that to you. I want to be a better man."

"You're trying. I can tell. And that's all I can ask."

Nigel nods, letting their lips brush again.

Eventually he extracts himself; pads to the bathroom to retrieve something to clean up with. Adam is still sprawled when he returns. He watches Nigel wipe him down with amusement writ on his features. God, Nigel loves that smirking grin.

After he's done, he grabs the duvet off the mattress and hauls it to the couch, so they can bundle up. He's happier once Adam is back in his arms. He can never imagine being without him. Not ever again.

Adam sprawls back against him like Cleopatra waiting to be fanned with a palm leaf.

"Kiss me again," he demands.

Nigel does with a snicker.

"How else may I service you?"

"You can get me a glass of wine if you like."

"So far away," Nigel complains. "Why did we buy a flat where the kitchen is so far? I blame your influence."

"Darling, it's only over there."

"Too far," he groans, but rolls to his feet. He takes the comforter, and Adam squawks.

"Just bring me the bottle, my god."

Nigel does. And glasses. And the corkscrew. He's an attentive boyfriend, after all. Adam takes them off him and wriggles back into Nigel's lap, pouring them both a glass before he shifts back under the covers.

"I like it here," he murmurs.

Nigel looks around. He does too, the high windows and industrial style fixtures. And Adam, warm in his arms.

"I wouldn't mind more furniture, mind you."

"Yeah, a table might be nice, and chest of drawers."

"I'm not going back to Ikea," Nigel threatens.

"We could go to an auction, that's more your scene I think."

"Oh, yes; stealing things from under the noses of the swells like you, count me in."

Adam laughs and swats at him.

"Thought you'd like that."

Nigel grins and kisses under his ear. "Take me anywhere you like, I promise to be on my best behaviour."

"Mmm, promises promises."

Nigel tugs on a loose curl.

"I didn't promise to stay there."

"But you did promise me your best behaviour. I'll hold you to it."

"And what if I misbehave?"

"You know what." Adam nips his lower lip.

Nigel laughs.

"Are you about to say something you know will only tempt me?"

Adam sighs at him fondly. "Probably."

Nigel kisses him again squarely. He feels lazy and satisfied and docile.

"I'll do whatever you want. I promise."

"I'd say I'll use these powers for good, but we both know that's a lie."

"That's what I was counting on, my love." He touches his face gently, watching his eyes, lit with a sharp-edged, biting sort of love. He hopes they're never parted. Hopes Adam never realises how much better off he could be. To Nigel, nothing gets any better than this.

He wraps Adam up more tightly at the thought, kissing the side of his neck. Adam is pliable against him, but they both know who's in charge.

"Tired, love?" Nigel asks.

"No, I'm not tired."

"All right." Nigel rummages his cigarettes from down the side of the couch. Adam steals the one he lights as soon as it's lit. It's easier to accept it a lost cause. He already has the second shaken out of the pack.

"No. We share," Adam protests.

Nigel laughs softly. He lets Adam put the filter between his lips.

"If this is your way of breaking me of the habit, it's not working," he mumbles.

"I think I've broken enough of your habits for one lifetime." He looks smug. Nigel puffs gently and admires it. Adam takes the cigarette back and leans in for his blowback. "Do you think that?" he murmurs.

"Don't you know?"

"I think I'm happy with you," Adam tells him.

"What, just the way I am?"

"Plus a few pieces of furniture. I'm feeling like an ugly chair might be in order."

"The ugliest one we can find," Nigel promises. He loves the way Adam smiles at him. He leans in to kiss him again with a sigh. "Is that truly all you want?" he whispers. "Just me?"

Adam bites his lip, stroking his cheek.

"I know. I was surprised too."

"Hope it was a good surprise, Princess."

Adam sighs again softly.

"Nigel. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He leans into Adam's hand.

"I feel the same way."

Their noses nudge together. Adam turns his cheek to take another drag of the cigarette. He blows smoke rings at the ceiling. Nigel watches them spread and dissipate like ripples on a lake. He looks at Adam's perfect, neat profile, and kisses his bared throat. Adam threads his fingers through Nigel's hair, glancing off the furrowed scar there.

They should both be dead, really. Nigel can't find words to express how glad he is that their second chances- whether deserved or not- brought them here. His mistakes, he thinks, might have him on a third chance now, but he doesn't intend to need any more. Second chances, nine lives, whatever it is- this is the last. The ultimate, in every way.


End file.
